Change of Scenery
by SIU viper
Summary: New job, new people, new locations - same ol' girl.  Can a change of venue chage the girl?
1. Grow a Set

**I own nothing by Drea and her friends. I have nothing to do with WWE ownership or anything of the like.**

**CHAPTER 1**

"Damn that phone, and the bitch who is calling me at 8:15 in the morning," I managed to mutter to myself. As I leaned up from my desk, sheet of paper stuck to the side of my cheek, disheveled hair rendering me blind, I heard the shrill, annoying voice on the other end.

"Make sure you're awake and looking productive. He is on his way to your office. Please don't have a repeat of last Tuesday, or we will have to have a whole department meeting with HR." Ha, bitch. HR is you. And I'm the lazy one? As I stared into the mirror across from my desk, my bleak world came to a head.

My name is Drea, short for Andrea, and the last is Macklin. It's about as "normal", read boring, as a young woman can get. I'm 25, and I'm about 5'6", and that is on a good day where the 7-11 sticker by the door is kind to me. I used to be much, much more in shape, but I'd say I'm not bad as I am – about 135 pounds. (Most of this weight can be attributed to my, ehem, assets, but I love them so I don't begrudge them this and try to lose them.) My hair is long – down past my bra-line at the mid back, slightly wavy, very thick, and of the very light brown/dark blonde variety. My eyes are ever-changing; green when I'm wearing purple eye make up or am giddy, and ice blue when I'm pissed or wearing brown. I have reading glasses, very sexy librarian style, but almost never use them – I always forget.

I'm a tomboy. I love everything that revolves around playing sports, watching them, and being outside. I'd walk around barefoot all the time if it wasn't so frowned upon by most of society. (You walk home barefoot from a bar ONE time, and everyone is a critic.) I own hunting camouflage of all varieties, drive a truck, and live for jeans and a tee shirt. How I ended up dressed up, sitting behind a desk in an office is bewildering to me. And for anyone who is wondering, it is a VERY bad idea to wear a camo coat into an office building housing one of the biggest, and snootiest, law firms in the Midwest. Learn from my pseudo-fail.

I ran from home as soon as was possible; it was pretty much the day after the diploma hit my hot little hands. Tired of being a fish of any size in that tiny little pond, I ran for freedom and fell in love with college. I was the basis for Van Wilder, but I would believe that they edited that movie heavily based on my plot. The only downside is that no one can stay in school forever. And believe me, I tried. But eventually the real world comes calling, usually with notices that your student loans are overdue and you happen to be underpaid. Underpaid and working behind a desk. Bored. Totally, utterly bored and unchallenged.

The other evening, while battling a fit of boredom, I saw an ad that there was an opening with a huge company, and the benefits looked they were out of this world. Problem? Had to move from my little home I'd made for myself, but the position, should it be offered to me and should I choose to accept it, would mean I'm traveling all the time. ALL THE TIME. Ah-mazing. Thankfully, they were overtly obvious with this point. As I sat, revising my resume to really play up the fact that I have helped a friend of mine who does films (no, not THOSE films – legit ones that are fully clothed, thanks) a time or two, and I'm aware of some production elements, I thought about what would keep me in my current location. My mom – yeah, but she encourages me to make money, so I figure she might be pretty supportive here. Yup, gonna try this one out.

I tracked down the email for all submissions, took a breath, and make a big wish that I get a paid vacation to get the hell outta here. I submitted the resume.

And here I wait. And wait. Wait, wait, wait, and wait some more. It's been the better part of a week and a half. Ugh. I had to finally come to terms with the fact that I'm probably never going to move from behind this desk, so when I hear Sweet Home Alabama singing from my cell in my purse, I think nothing of the fact that I don't recognize the number, and figure it's my sorority wanting a donation.

"Hello," I sigh into the phone.

"Hi, I need to speak with Andrea, please. Is she available?" This was a proper voice, a female voice. It had a twinge of that East Coast inflection. Wait a minute here; who the hell is this.

"Speaking. May I ask who this is? If you're calling about my car insurance policy, I swear that the check for the premium is in the mail, like yesterday." I'm hoping this excuse will work, again.

I hear a soft chuckle on the other end of the line. "I assure you that I'm not worried about the check,"

"Well that's good, because I would have been screwed when it didn't show up in a few days," I interrupted. Then realized I did. "I am so sorry that I interrupted you though, please,".

The female started again. "Well, I think that I already know you will probably be a great interviewee. This is Ms. McMahon; I'm calling about your resume submission, and while I don't usually worry with interviewing people applying for production positions, I came across your resume, and think you may be perfect for another opening with our company. Are you still available?"

In the time that this call started, until I about peed down both my legs because of who I was talking to, my current boss walked into my office and tossed down a case on my desk. I looked at him, chuckled to myself, and held up a finger to him when he started to speak. "Oh, I'm very available. Whatever the job is, it does involve travel, right, and what salary range are you guys interested in negotiating within?" This does NOT go over well with the current employer – read the human embodiment of pissed beyond all reason.

Stephanie, who I've now realized is the Ms. McMahon to whom I am speaking, is laughing. "Yes, there will be extensive travel. And the range is, well, not stellar, but very comparable to industry standards."

There was a quick discussion of what those amounts were, which I am not going to divulge here – for reasons of security and modesty. I'd hate to fully embarrass myself, but I do manage to incense my boss – whose face is getting redder by the moment.

"Ms. McMahon, when do you want me? I'm pretty sure my shift here is complete, and I can be there as early as tomorrow." I smile at the Midwestern Hulk incarnate in front of me; he was wrong, I do like him when he's angry. It's funny.

"I'll send you the flight confirmation within 20 minutes via email." I CANNOT believe I got the job. O. M. G.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" I end the call, and place one hand on my hip as I pull my purse from under my desk. Before my boss can get a word in edgewise, I start. "I would love to make sure that you don't commit any more legal malpractice, sir, but alas, I cannot. I have a job offer that includes travel and more money. Perhaps if I wanted to continue to ruin my life and rue the day I was born, I'd stay here and kiss your hairy, droopy ass. But I don't." I start out the door, but before I can fully shut the door, "Oh, and your wife is cheating on your with the FedEx guy in your office every Thursday. By the way, I quit." The door shuts, and I'm only a night away from starting my new life – I'm going to be traveling with the WWE, seeing the world, and being paid enough to not have to eat grilled cheese sandwiches over once a week unless I want to.

This has to be about the best thing to happen, right? I mean, ah-mazing!

Upon my arrival home, I text each and every one of my friends to disseminate the wonderful news. They are happy – this is a reason to drink if they have ever heard one. And they volunteer to buy. I make sure that every one of them know I'll be to our favorite bar in about 15…have the 3 Olives and Jagerbombs ready!

I check in the email, and I find a flight confirmation for 4 a.m. departure. It's about 2:30 in the afternoon now – my two weeks was limited to the five minute, one sided conversation before – so I figured I could print out the specs, go get hammered, and have my DD get my butt to the airport in plenty of time. (My most wonderful, best friend Lane had been volunteered for this position – she was recovering from a nasty break-up with her long-term boyfriend, and I'm sure she would jump on the offer to sublease my joint, and make sure I drug my tired, soon-to-be-hungover ass to the plane in time to start my new life.)

My friends are dissecting my new opportunity. I will be functioning somewhere between an assistant to the talent, helping with the production of the show, and helping out with averting risk-management issues and keeping tabs on the superstars. I'm basically babysitting full grown men and women. My male friends instantly start peppering me with questions about the "Divas" and "fueds". I'm lost. Apparently, I might want to take some lay-over time at the airport to whip out the laptop and actually research my charges. Good thing I'm too drunk to do it now, if I had my laptop with me, I would have smashed it to bits when I go ass over teakettle in the parking lot, trying to get into the bed of my truck, all the while screaming that I was Axl Rose's lost kid and trying to sing Welcome to the Jungle. Yeah, this is going to be fun. I hope these people give me a bit of a learning curve, and if nothing else, they won't hold impromptu karaoke against me.


	2. Meet the Natives

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. ;)**

**CHAPTER 2**

Hours later, and here I sit in the Dallas airport, on a 3 hour layover. I'm cursing the day I was born, telling all that Master Hunter- mister Jagermeister for those who are Germanic language challenged-to go screw itself, and trying not to see all 12 of those cosmos I had again. I do manage to take some quick looks at the new bosses, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to like the tall, gorgeous scenery. All I could think of now is just a shower and a bed.

I arrived at San Diego airport at about 6 or 7 or something a.m.; I'm hung over. I manage to follow my email directions, and tell the cheerful cabbie to take me to the Hilton. Apparently, my new boss is nice enough to talk the hotel into sponsoring a minimal room for me to have for the day until check out tomorrow. I walk into the big lobby, and instantly I'm sure that I have the wrong place. There are about 5 different giant, adorable, simply hot men walking towards me from the elevators. I figure it's better to go check in than get run over and be a greasy, drunk spot on the marble as my previously spotted herd of wonderful men walk into the gym. This is the place, Drea – this is exactly where your tired, fabulous ass should be. Surrounded by hot guys, and not wearing anything restricting. Restricting…wait; I look down and notice I've been barefoot since the plane ride, my shoes tucked into my purse. Fuck.

The bell boy is nice enough to fill me in a little on the ride up to my room. He politely tells me that the company usually rents out a lot of space so that the stars can have theirs – without being all creepily stalked (like I was almost guilty of this morning, barefooted in the lobby like I was coming from Woodstock or the Manson ranch). As I politely thank him for the help, and for not judging me by looks or smell, he reminds me that the Wi-Fi here is splendiferous, and I could get up to speed in a fraction of a second. For this help, I tip him. Again, no judgment. This guy is good.

After my shower, I crawl into bed with the computer and start looking things up. I have decided to make it easy on myself – I'm going to call everyone by their stage names until I'm corrected. That has to work. I'm going to be watching over a lot, A LOT, of people. Keeping them sort of in line, i.e. no spontaneous murders or robberies of banks, and making sure there are powerbars and brown m&m's in the right room. Still pays more and I'm already in Cali. This is a step up still. I doze off about the time I'm reviewing a profile for one of the Divas, Melina, who looks like she might be a good option for someone to hang out with. Next thing I know, my alarm is waking me up, and I'm scrambling to get something on, including shoes this time, to go meet the new bosses. I finally walk out of my room in my favorite blue jeans (which make my ass look spectacular – the only pair that does this), a silk tank top with some cleavage, slightly heeled open toe sandals, and my MK aviators and bag. As my hair flows loose and wavy on my back, I walk through the lobby full of superstars milling around, and head straight for Ms. McMahon.

"Excuse me, Ms. McMahon, I'm Drea. Drea Macklin. I'm your new, well, gopher." I smile sweetly as I pull my glasses up into my hair. She smiles and offers her hand; I take it and shake it excitedly.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Drea. Please, ride with us to the arena, and we can talk all about what we need you to do, and how happy we are to have you here with us." I follow her out to the Escalade that is waiting, and climb on in. As I'm shutting the door, I notice the same 5 gorgeous guys walk by, heading towards the valet stand this time. I watched her nod slightly towards the group, "Those are some of the guys you will be assigned to, Drea. Hope you're prepared to jump right in, 'cause they will keep you on your toes!"

The car flew through traffic, and I only caught about a small portion of what I was told. I get to basically float; help out where needed. It was my concern if someone needed something in particular, and try to get it possible or legal. I would be needed to help set up sometimes too, or manage wardrobe if they need it, make-up, etc. I get a standard issue walkie-talkie, ear piece, credentials, and a much, much bigger salary. I nod where appropriate, and try to push the cute guys from my head. I'm told that sometimes I might need to keep up with them after hours even, and I'm sure that my face lights up – this is something I can handle – and to just keep them out of trouble. I should recognize any potential actionable situations because of my background, and when we arrive at the venue, Stephanie shakes my hand, points me to the supplies manager, and says good luck. Here goes nothing.

I'm wandering around the back, ear piece in, when I sit down on a box for a second to take a load off. Ugh, how do these women do this all the time? Sure my shoes and outfit were smoking hot, but it was costly - my feet were killing me and my body was not a fan of the constriction. As I leaned back a bit, arching my back to stretch it out, eyes closed, I suddenly felt a little off – like there is someone right next to me. I open up my eyes and screetch loudly; there are 5 men standing there looking at me like they had found the Holy Grail, which seemed to be hidden down my shirt. I bolt up, and realize that when you buy a push-up bra, and you're naturally blessed, it can lead to a good show for everyone.

"Oh my God! Ya'll scared the crap outta me!" I started panting; my hand on my heaving chest.

The first, and most approachable man, extended his hand slowly and helped me get up onto my feet. Smiling, "We're sorry. Didn't mean to, uhm, scare you or anything. I think we may have just enjoyed the view. My name is Matt, or Evan." I took his hand and shook it slowly – he was adorable. Beautiful smile; nice eyes that sparkled behind his glasses, and definitely not as scary as some of the others because he would be in my height range. "So, are you new here, or?"

I shook myself away from looking at his perfect smile, "Sorry, my name is Drea. This is my first day…heh…I'm the new floating PA slash risk manager. I'm here to help you guys out with whatever you need." As I finish my hand shake with the nice one, I hear the tallest one in the back let out a small whoof of air, and the blonde next to him moved his arm back as he finished his remark under his breath.

"I bet you might have some things she can take care of, huh?" I immediately snap into bitchy alert – are they cracking these jokes on me the first day? This isn't my first rodeo, buddy, and I'm really not going to be teased by the tan, tattooed version Godzilla, and his merry band of jerks. Godzilla pushed the blonde, and drops his gaze to the floor immediately when he met my eyes, which are now turning an incensed shade of blue.

"Excuse me, Matt, it's nice to make your acquaintance, but I think your friend back there, Barbie or Ken or whatever his name is, might have something to say." I hear all the men snicker, and Godzilla is stifling a loud laugh as the blonde looks impressed. I direct my attention back to him as the men start to form a semi-circle around me. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

"Wow. Been a while since I've been busted on like that. I didn't mean anything by it, and my name is Ted, not Ken." He smiled sincerely, looking amused that I had a brain in my head. "Seriously, I'm impressed. Cody, you catch this lady?"

I smirked – I had nailed the blonde. Apparently, the look on my face was well read by this Cody person. A very cute, dark haired guy stepped forward a little with his hand outstretched. I took it lightly, and he instantly smiled. "Yeah, he's really not always that much of a douche. Just sometimes." He winked at me, and I grinned slightly. "My name is Cody; welcome to the WWE." I detected a little southern twang in his voice, and it was easy to see the man had that charm. God bless a southern gentleman.

Godzilla pushed Cody to the side slightly, and walked directly in front of me. I looked up; I had to. He was still taller than me with my slightly heeled shoes on. The dude was dripping sex from every element of himself. He thrust his hand to me, and looked almost through me with a steel gaze. I timidly took his hand, and he crushed it with one squeeze. "I'm Randy, and I have to go." He twirled around on his heels and took off from the group. I stood there with a frozen look of terror on my face, and I could hear the other guys snickering behind me. I turned around to them, still slightly taken aback from this encounter.

"Okay then. So we have Matt, Ted, and Cody." As I pointed to each they nodded and smiled. I pointed in the direction of Godzilla's exit, "That was Randy." They nodded again. I looked at the last member of the group. He was of a massive stature; looked like he did nothing else but live in a gym. He had a strong jaw and muscular looking, well, everything. As I looked in his direction, he began to smile softly, and his whole stoic face softened. He had lovely blue eyes that began to dance. I offered my hand out to him, and he took it; his grip was much lighter than I had imagined. "And you are?"

"I'm John. Please ignore him," he nodded in Godzilla's direction as the other guys grinned mischieviously, "he is having a rough time right now. He's at least normal most of the time. Talks without grunting or anything." John's smile was friendly, warm, and completely disarming. I started to hope that I didn't look like I was doing my best impression of Goofy again. John was a cutie.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, too, John. It was really nice to meet all of you. I hope you guys will let me know if there is anything I can take care. If you don't, I might be let go, and I like the idea of being employed, and maybe even having to follow everyone out tonight to make sure nothing happens." All the men smiled and laughed. As the left, I gave them a friendly wave, and collapsed back onto the travel box I had been resting on when I was rudely interrupted. The perk here now is that I know I'm tracking down all these adorable guys, and one giant reptile who terrorized Tokyo. Maybe 1 outta 5 ain't bad.


	3. Don't Get Comfy

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think.**

**CHAPTER 3**

The show went off without a hitch. The superstars walked past me to and from the ring, before and after their matches, and most of them were kind enough to either introduce themselves or say hello again. I spent about 10 minutes telling dirty jokes with Ted, and I think I might have won a friendship for life due to my stellar comedy chops. There was only one person who seemed to avoid me like the plague – Godzilla; I mean Randy. He looked perturbed a lot; like there was a ton on his mind and I was a burden. I ran for towels for him a couple times, but there was little more than a please or thank you uttered. I figured it best to stay away from him, or else run the risk of having my head taken clean off my body. It was funny though, he looked at me like he wanted to say something profound when I dropped off his last towel request; the fifth of the night. Instead, I heard about how he had to piss. Great first impression. I called it a wash; couldn't be the worst first day on the job ever, right?

The traveling life was a wonderful way to live for my first month on the job. We were constantly wandering away from location to location. I trailed behind my little brood, keeping towels in stock, calendars updated, and people going in the correct directions. It wasn't as difficult to keep some of the minor guys in line. Matt was pretty self-sufficient, and brilliant to boot. It was kind of funny that he seemed so ADD when he was competing, because all I could see is that cute little boy with glasses trying to explain business models to me on layovers. Cody and Ted were pretty chill, too. These guys were mainly hands-off since they weren't as big in the company limelight as some others, so their scheduled appearances were pretty run of the mill and easy to direct. The other two I was babysitting were a different story indeed.

John was the face of the company plain and simple. Anywhere he went stopped people in their tracks and created mobs that I haven't seen since watching coverage of teenage girls waiting for N*Sync circa 1998. These people were rabid; I was along for the ride, walking behind him carrying a briefcase and still managed to get called a whore by no less than twenty other women. Apparently, any girl within ten feet of him had to his hooker, right?

Randy was the same way. Sometimes, read all the time, I had to choose which one of them to follow. The major difference was and is that John is all PG about his public image. He upholds what they tell him to, and to a certain extent what he truly believes. Randy enjoys seeing what kind of trouble he could drum up. There were winks to girls causing near riots, and he enjoyed the attention. Having the audience was something he liked. I could barely keep them straight and on the right paths, but somehow it worked. For now.

We were all at a megashow in Austin, or at least I think it was Austin. Who knows, it was all running together. I just know it was pretty warm, and I saw a ton of really jacked up pickup trucks when I was sitting on the back of the loading docks taking a break. Ted had come out from his match, still pumped up from the crowd. Somehow I got myself talked into heading out with this little menagerie, and I already knew it would not lead to anything good. But I was thirsting to give in to my urges for some debauchery and act like a fool for a bit.

I caught a ride with some of the tech guys back to the hotel after the show. I ran up to my room and started changing out the outfit I was wearing almost immediately. The hair had to be fixed, make-up revamped to reveal the rock star I was, and the dress (which was purchased for me by my bestie on the afternoon I left – small gift laying out on my bed as I packed with a note instructing me to wear this when I felt like being a little risque) was on. I stood in the mirror and took in my look. Long blondish-brown hair, down and curled for optimum wave. Eyes were rimmed in smoky purple and the rest of the face was dewy and fresh. My bra and girls were working overtime, and the dress, designed specifically for cleavage, was helping my cause. I ran over and threw on my mini-heel overly-stacked top black suede boots to complete the look. Right before I did the usual mantra of I run this bitch, I grabbed the clutch and said to myself, "Keep your shit right tonight. At least until they are more trashed than you."

I waited downstairs in the hotel lobby until I saw Ted and his band of brothers come around the corner. All were in the usual man uniform of jeans, button down shirts, and the guys looked tasty. As they approached, I stood up from my seat on the community ottoman, and I started to hear the cat calls. I threw a light punch at Ted's arm when he got close, and smiled politely as I curtsied.

"Ya'll look nice. I'm assuming that I won't have too much trouble out of you right?" I looked around at each of them. I knew they were looking at me too, but one didn't look long. Randy started to turn and stare all around but at me. John had that sparkle in his eye, and Matt went back to his phone. Cody smiled politely and nodded. "Good, 'cause I'd hate to have to turn anything in. I don't like paperwork."


	4. 3 Ring Circus

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think.**

**CHAPTER 4**

I heard Randy's gruff voice echo against the walls of the lobby, "Looks like the limo is here. Is she riding with us, dickhead?"

"Yes, she is. My invitation." Ted was smirking at his angered counterpart. He turned back on his heels, facing me and offering his arm. "You coming, pumpkin?"

I nodded, smiling slightly as I took his arm, and started outside, being held in the middle of the group. Each deferred and let me enter first, and I took a seat along a side bench, in the middle. Each man filed in; Matt and Cody sat across from me, Ted and John took up the back end seat, leaving just one more to come in. Randy slid in next to me silently, and barely managed to smirk before looking back down at the ground. The guys all looked like they had been having a conversation I wasn't privy too not too long before they met me in the lobby, and were snickering about it again. Randy looked up and gave each of them a cutting look; his jaw clenched. John simply held up his hands as if to say he was not involved. Ted flat out laughed.

There was some chatter on our way to the destination, but I kept my mouth pretty shut. As the limo slowed, I looked out the window and couldn't see the sign for where we stopped. The guys started to hold in peals of laughter again, Randy's cheeks turned bright red, and I started to get a very eerie feeling in the pit of my stomach. I was the last person to exit the limo, and when I looked at the door full-on, I realized where I had been brought; a strip club. Apparently, judging from the amount of neon on the building, it was THE strip club. I'm pretty sure you could see my cheeks flush from outer space.

"Are you guys serious? I mean it, really?" When I got anxious or angry, this situation calling for anxiety, my country accent comes out hardcore. "I can't believe ya'll would do this!" Despite my better judgment, I smirked at them. John, Cody, Matt, and Ted erupted into laughter like they had just seen their sworn enemies get hit in the nuts. Randy held his head in his hands, and his cheeks turned about 12 shades of red.

There were two options here: I could either take this in stride, and go in with a group of 5 of the HOTTEST men I've ever laid my little eyes on, and let them think I was cool. Or, I could bitch, piss, and moan on about feminism and how this is wrong, wrong, wrong. Good thing for me I sensed that if I just bucked up and went in with my head held high, I would probably get free drinks in an uber-clean champagne room all night long. I slapped John on the back as I passed him, then turned. "What the hell guys, these ladies have rent to pay. Let's go!" Four of them followed willingly; giving me high-fives and cheers as we walked. The last brought up the tail end of the group and looked like he was so mortified he could die right now.

We went in and were whisked away to an upper level VIP room. There was glass all around the large table, and the guys were able to take in all the stages below, and the entertainment contained therein. In all fairness, these ladies were trying to work it, but I don't think this was the A-team, unfortunately. Who am I kidding – they were hot, I was somewhat jealous, and then I caught a reflection of myself in the glass. I was pretty hot tonight, too. The girls caught the attention of the guys, well almost all of them, as Randy sat in the back and played on his phone for quite a while. I sat down with the rest of the guys, taking in the show, and started to loosen up with them a bit. We all started bullshitting - I told stories about the world I left behind, and all my love of hair metal music, and even divulged that if there was good enough music and plentiful booze, I could be coaxed to sing and dance. They told me about being out on the road all the time, and all the silly things they've done in their time. Randy finally joined in about half an hour in, but stayed relatively quiet.

About 2 hours into this shindig, I started feeling good. Really good. I think my vodka was finally kicking in – the guys opened up tabs and insisted that they get me just as sloshed as they intended to be. Matt and Cody decided they had about all the fun they wanted for the night, and they had the balls to leave me there with Ted, John, and Randy. Ted was sloppy already, and told me he wanted to go downstairs and show the ladies how to work the pole. I redirected him to the pole set up to one side of the catwalk in front of us; there was a pole on either side of the walk. I started singing under my breath after drink 4, drumming on the catwalk to Motley Crue after cocktail 9, and decided that we all should be dancing on the walk after drink 14. Luckily, John and Ted obliged me, thought it was a grand idea as well, and I was suddenly dropping it like it was hot between them. Randy kept stealing glances, and I was too inebriated to pretend to be smooth anymore, and stared back openly. As I reached back, offering my hand to Randy, who I was sure was looking up my skirt, he made a quick move and pulled me down towards him, catching me against his rock hard chest before I hit the floor.

He spoke quietly in my ear, "I'm sorry that I've been so short." I looked back a bit, now sitting on the table in front of him while the other 4 party animals were drunkenly rapping for all they were worth. He leaned forward in his chair and spoke again. "I am happy to meet you, and I hope you do well here. You must be pretty tough – you put up with me being an asshole for over a month now."

Randy's face was softer. His eyes had relaxed, and I noticed even more how entrancing they were. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smirk, and I smiled back without a second thought, thank you booze for that uninhibited reaction. He took a step back from me, finished off his beer and then signaled to our concierge to bring another round, and motioned for mine as well. I stood back up on the catwalk with his help, or he basically plopped me back up there if you must know. I kept motioning him to join me, and finally drug him onto the walk with Ted, John, and myself just as I started to hear Pitbull resonate from the stages below. Did I mention that I love Pitbull, and would dance to this stuff like I was a video vixen?

As our evening out proceeded, and the men did as well, to act like it was 1999 all over again. I was enticing all of the guys to come get close, only to writhe my way all over them. I never noticed the taught look on Randy's face as this took place until Ted, ever so subtlety – read obnoxiously, pulled me over to him, and Randy's chin clenched so hard it jumped. I extended my hand out to him, laughing hysterically, and Randy took it. I drew him closer, and he obliged.

The feeling I got was intense. Randy had one hand holding mine up, with the other arm draped around the top of my hips. I spun around and slid down his legs like he was a pole downstairs, and I knew it was getting a reaction from him for very obvious reasons. His grip on my hip was strong – not crushing, just ever present as I slid up against him. I liked it, and thanks to my drunken stupor, I may or may not have mentioned it, out loud, twice.

The dancing continued until, one by one, each of the guys went in search of the rest room, and I happened to ask our dutiful waiter what time it was. Oh, only 4 a.m. Yeah, we need to go. After corralling the three amigos, and shuffling them out the front door – and paying down each tab with a handsome gratuity, we all climbed into the limo (well, I climbed on all fours into it – I had been wearing my "schexy booooots" for far too long, and had too much Goose, and was waaaay too loose) and headed back. I had to remind Ted that no, we could not go through a Taco Bell in the limo. People might stare. It was then that I realized that John was hanging out of the sunroof – then suddenly so was I. Yeah, hotel is a good idea.

As we pull under the ledge for the hotel, the valets realize that we've had a time, and begin to laugh as we all file out. I am the last one out, since John ducked out faster than me and Ted hit the button to close the sunroof on me while I'm still half out of it. As I'm scrambling to get out of the door in a somewhat graceful manner, I feel a big hand grab mine just as I'm getting ready to fall. Randy has stayed behind, swaying only slightly, and picked me up and out of the car. I look at him and grin slightly. "You know, you're not as big of a dick as I thought you were going to be."

He smiled. "Thanks. I tend to make those impressions." I had noticed that we stood there for a few minutes, my hand still in his, and neither of us had made an offer to move. Finally, Randy shook his head slightly, "Can I walk you up to your room? That way I know that you had made it okay."

"I don't know about that. You might try something." I smirked at him, and he winked at me with those entrancing steel blue eyes. "I've got all kinds of government secrets, gold bars, and expensive liquor in that room – it has to be protected at all costs." I giggled at myself, then hiccupped loudly and physically enough to almost knock me off my unsteady feet. Randy caught me, and before I could say anything, I was being fireman carried into the hotel.

Now I realize that this may not have been my most dignified moment in time, and it is most certainly not the best way to start my night out adventures with the charges. My drunk ass has been drug all over God's creation, to a strip club, with 5 WWE superstars. I am the one to encourage dancing on a private stage, and letting go of any grip on reality or sobriety. I am the person who is supposed to be keeping these people under control. And now, I've been flung over the shoulder of a tall, sexy man who is dragging me upstairs just to make sure my idiot ass can make it into the correct room. Oh please, oh please, don't let my new bosses be somewhere watching this lobby seeing this. Randy managed to get me to the elevators – and then to the right floor. I hear the card lock snap open, and Randy duck down a bit to carry me through the door. I really started thinking about how he managed to know which room was mine until I realize he is holding my clutch in his massive hand – python is a good look for him. Slowly, he rolls me off his shoulder and onto the bed. I brace myself on one of the beds with my hands before laying back. I feel the bed shift from pressure up near the headboard, and I hear a soft snicker.

"Do you guys do this stuff all the time? I mean, I figure I'm good for keeping up once a week, but wow. That was ridi – hiccup – ridiculous." I laughed at myself as I finished. Way to be smooth, Drea. Sounding like a drunk heathen has to be the MOST attractive look for you.

Randy spoke quietly, which I wasn't expecting. "Nah, I can't do that all the time. It's about 3 or 4 nights a week." I heard him chuckle softly; hadn't anyone told him you shouldn't laugh at your own jokes unless your name is Drea or you are really, really funny? "But some of the guys, they keep a lot of bars in business. Usually it's either Ted or John in the middle of the planning." He looked at me with the trademark smirk, "Ted would be the responsible party for tonight. He likes to test the newbies. I'd say offhand that you passed."

I rolled over and off the bed, and then sat in the floor while I fumbled to get my boots off. I mean, Lord have mercy, these boots were sex on heels, but when you are a drunkard, they are hard to operate. After about five minutes of cursing under my breath, and falling over backwards twice, Randy leaned over and grabbed my foot. He slid the boot off effortlessly, but his hand lingered on my calf, which made me feel a little charged. I wasn't sure if it was the booze or an actual attraction, but after he had removed both boots, I did manage the clarity to slide my leg out of his hand and excuse myself to the bathroom for a moment. I grabbed my night bag and took it in with me. As I changed into a long tee and my boy shorts, I glanced at myself in the mirror. My makeup held up remarkably well, so much so that I mentally made a note to send a thank you card to the nice lady at the MAC counter at my Macy's. I washed my face, and put my glasses on (which I have a tendency to wear when I'm recovering from a bender – they make things much easier to see the next morning), then opened up the door. The hulk that has carried me upstairs, over his broad shoulders, had drifted off to sleep, slumped up against the head of the bed.


	5. Welcome to the Dark Side

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think.**

**CHAPTER 5**

I started to turn out lights in the room, and walked over to the light that was on between the beds. I picked up the remote, flung it onto the other bed, mumbling to myself about my pillow being buried under 200 plus pounds of man. I glanced over and took a long look at Randy; he looked so peaceful and calm, which was a stark contrast to what I've heard or seen from him before this moment. His muscular arms were softer while he slept, not showing the harshness that he exuded while in his character, well, other than the tattoos. About the time I really started staring at his lips, which were soft, kissable, and looked totally delicious, I snapped my head back and realized I must be crazy. This cannot be a good idea – no, no, no. Never, ever a good idea. I touched his shoulder and his eyes fluttered open.

"Hey, I just didn't want you to wake up with a cricked neck. Do you need me to set an alarm?" He leaned up a bit, looking around the dark room. "I mean, you don't have to stay if you would rather leave, but you're not putting me out if you're too comfy to get up. I can sleep over here on the other bed."

"Nah, I'm cool here," he leaned up slowly, then stood up off the bed. "No reason to go traipsing through the hotel, it's about time that the ring rats have figured out where we are and that we're back from the club. They get a little aggressive after some booze, just like some other women I've seen." He looks directly at me with a devilish grin on his face, and before I can wipe the surprise off my face, a pillow comes flying at my face. "Plus, I don't know if you realize it or not, but I'm stuck sharing a room with John on this stop, and he snores like you wouldn't believe – and has a soft spot for drunken hook-ups. That's another mental image I'd like to avoid if possible." He was right, ugh. The thought of some skanky looking girl on top of John was turning my stomach. He was too cute to not have good standards; I would have to speak with him about this. It could be construed as a pertinent legal matter – those creeper girls were the ones you should watch for possible paternity suits.

"So..", I realized I had spaced out again, and when Randy spoke, I shook my head a bit and blinked back to him.

"Sorry, you're right, ick." He laughed as he peeled off his shirt over his head, and I wiped my mouth at the sight. "If it's okay, I'm going to stay in here, but I don't want to have to kick you out of your bed. Maybe you would do me a favor?" Why yes, my inner monologue replies, I'd love to lick all over your abs. It would be my pleasure.

"Uhm, okay. What's the favor?" As Randy opened his mouth, I cut him off arbitrarily, "I hope it's not to keep the TV off. I sleep so much better when I have background noise."

He smiled, "No, I'm good with that. I was going to ask if you would mind laying over here with me." I put my hands up on my hips, ready to protest as he laid back down in the bed on top of the covers. "No, I'm not looking for anything. It's just nice to lay with someone without an agenda when I'm out here, and your obviously drunk and want me. Besides, it's a creature comfort that we don't often get to take advantage of, well, other than John, but I'd dare to say those girls he drags home aren't ones I'd want to wake up to." I HAD to speak to John about his tastes and possible lawsuits.

"Well, I guess. You stay above the covers, and I think we can work this out." I switched on the television, and turned off the light. He laid out on his back, his arms folded under his head. Wow, his arms were freaking huge. And now, he was without his pants too – jackpot – him relaxing in barely any clothing. Lane would need pictures and she's gonna hate me for this one. I slid in under the sheets, and folded my pillow up under my head. I decided that South Park reruns were the way to go, but it was the episode that spoofed Dog the Bounty Hunter with Cartman the Hallway Monitor, so I was totally awake. Between drunken laughing fits, I managed to squeak out that I loved this episode. I looked up at Randy, wiping tears from the corners of my eyes; he laughed out loud at me.

"Exactly how old are you, Drea? Ten?"

"What? This is epic! How do you not love this?"

"I don't think I've ever seen a girl that loves South Park. Especially not an adult."

"Well, Mr. Grumpy Pants, I'm not your average girl. I love South Park." With that, I sat up, giggling as I caught a glimpse of the Beth character out of the corner of my eye.

Randy turned his head a little bit more towards me. "Is there anything else I should know? You are really a girl, right?" He looked as though he amused himself with that last one.

"Well if I'm not, your night might be worse here than if you stayed with John." The realization crossed his face. "I promise, all girl." I grinned wide as his face looked relieved, then, he smiled back. "What do you want to know?"

"You can give me some particulars – where does someone pick up little quirks like this one?"

"Just here and there. My bestie and I love watching this show when we're blitzed. When you're drunk, you get to be normal without that pesky conscious telling you it's not correct to laugh at an elephant and pig gettin' it on." I grinned at him, and even though I'm sure neither of us was sober in the least, he looked it more than me. The corner of his mouth was twitching, and I could tell the wheels upstairs were turning faster than I cared to prepare for.

"Bestie? So you are really ten years old."

"It's just a hold over from college; we used to say it all the time."

"We? We as in, who? You and this girl?"

"It was a house thing. Everyone said it."

"House thing? House?" Randy was leaning up a bit at this reply. He looked like a lion stalking his prey.

"Yes, my house. I was in a sorority." I gulped in spite of myself. His eyes danced back and forth like he had just been given the key to a city.

"Aha. It all makes sense now."

"Sounds like someone got rejected from the Crush party." I crossed my arms and humpfed at once; he couldn't hold his disdain at my immature argument finisher and I heard a soft snicker. I looked to the side and saw his eyes twinkle as he opened his mouth.

"Fine; you got me. I guess maybe it's not that bad. But, lemme guess. You were a cheerleader in high school, socialite in college, drive the little red convertible or Beetle, and you have a Chihuahua somewhere in this room. I mean, I see your shoe collection over there," he pointed to my mountainous luggage full of heels and flip flops. Damn, they had betrayed me. "And besides the shoes, you're running around in those," this time he pointed to my boy shorts, "which is pretty much code for I spent a lot of time half naked around others."

He looked triumphant as I leaned back away from him and simply licked the side of my lips. Me? A cheerleader? For reals? Oh, perhaps I decided that Mr. Godzilla was cool prematurely. "You haven't got a clue."

His confidence only faltered slightly; he was maintaining very well thus far. "Right." I knew my evil, bitch-ima-cut-chu smirk was plastered all over my face. Whether or not this was something he had judged me to be to get a rise out of me, or if he thought it was real, the bottom line was that he was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! And I bet there was a long line of people that would have loved for him to be called out on it.

"Well, Randy," I began slowly; methodically. I was going to enjoy this, in all of my inebriated, gloaty glory. "I do have shoes, you're totally right. I love shoes; but usually, I run around in flip flops. And as for my choice in lounge wear, how dare you take the opportunity to scrutinize my butt and it's apparently lack of love for longer pajama pants. Perv."

I could feel myself rambling more and more, but I don't think he cared what I had to say until I called him a perv. I saw the sparkle in his eyes as they narrowed towards me, followed by a very menacing grin. I decided to just keep on going.

"Not a cheerleader, no Chihuahua, no beetle, not popular. Total opposite. I'm just me."

He sat and absorbed my news, but didn't look as defeated as I thought he might end up being. Randy Orton had been proven wrong – and yet, he was taking it so well. What the eff? I was expecting to see him all pouting because he had totally misjudged me, and willing to fill up another suitcase with shoes as a good will gesture. I don't think he was going to do that anytime soon; he looked like he was more thrilled than anything. I should have investigated his motives at this point, but thanks to Ted's encouragement to keep up with them drink for drink, I didn't really have the ability to keep myself from blathering on.

"Oh, and I like old cars."

"Great. Laying here in the same room with Cena anyways," Randy muttered under his breath, but still bemused with my oratory. Then, there was nothing. No reaction. I looked over at the man who was taking up most of the bed due to his colossal stature. He was smirking, and had a look on his disarmingly handsome face that suddenly told me I had been duped. Fuck.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" He nodded slowly, and started to laugh low as the realization took up residence inside my head. "Damn." Yup, I'd just been beaten. Bad. This was totally worse than the time I yelled out at one of my favorite college players during a game, commenting on how totally amazing his ass looked and how I'd like to have illegitimate children with him, only to have the entire arena go quiet as I spoke, loudly. I felt utterly embarrassed. I think Randy realized my immediate regret, and leaned up with a soft smile on his face, and placed a hand over my forearm.

"Come here. Lay back down." I could barely decide for myself if this was what I wanted to do before my physical being was back down on the bed, laying on my side, facing his grin. "I just have to size up the new people. I don't like a lot of people; surprising, I know," he had cut me off before I could make the joke, "and I wonder if the new people who waltz in here and waltz back out are okay or not. So many of these females working in this company are here because of who they know, or who their plastic surgeon is; they have no minds and no sense of adventure beyond what different colors they can match between their stripper heels and spandex." Randy spoke very purposefully, and towards the end, his words were dripping with disdain. He must really not like the Divas, or the girls that his best friend brings back while on the road.

"I assure you, Mr. Orton, I am totally legit. I mean, c'mon, you've seen me out – I'm fun. And not in the I-have-kids-with-celebs-for-rent-money way. I can hold my own. Even against you. I'll wager my 3 degrees and dabbling career in law against your misconception of a sorority girl. But in an unrelated topic, how is this arrangement going to work, because you're pretty much taking up my whole bed."

He smiled, and as he was leaning up to arrange the pillows, I heard his phone blow up in his pocket. Pulling it out and looking at the ID, he groaned as he stood before answering. "Yeah, what's up? Mm-hmm, well I am gonna crash somewhere else tonight, so go ahead and have your fun. Is she at least prettier than the last one? Ugh, Cena – make sure you check the purse before she leaves the room – the last one jacked me for about three grand outta my suitcase, man. Yeah, see you tomorrow." Click. "There it is. I just hope this one turns out to be a guy in drag – serves him right."

I was still trying to pretend I hadn't just eavesdropped on his entire conversation when the last sentence came spilling out of his mouth and under his breath. I sputtered into peals of laughter, and his eyes suddenly brightened up as he started to laugh with me. He finally had to sit down on the bed, clutching at his sides – and things only escalated when I managed to roll right off the bed. I thought he was going to pee himself, and my hiccups started back in with a vengeance.

"Can you – hiccup – help me back – hiccup – up?" He rolled over with tears coming out of his eyes, as he gasped for air between laughing fits. I grabbed his hands that were outstretched to me, and was instantly back up on the bed next to him. I gave up my fight, hiccupping every few seconds, and folded my pillow back up next to his arm. His laughter had subsided slightly, and about the time that I began to pass out for the night, I felt a large arm wrap around me.

"Night Shorty." Randy exhaled softly as he tucked me into his side, my head resting up on his shoulder.

"Night Grumpy Pants. Guess this means I'm okay, right?"

"Yeah, you'll do." I just hope I didn't snore too loudly.


	6. Morning Sunshine

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think, and I'm interested in what everyone thinks so far.**

**CHAPTER 6**

I rubbed my eyes as the soft morning light seeped through the curtains. They fluttered open to find me alone in my room, and alone in my bed. "Damn, that was one hell of a hallucination," I murmured to myself before clutching at my temples, "and this is one fucking hell of a hangover. Ugh." As I set my hand down on the side of the bed, sweeping my legs over the edge to start and try to get up, I noticed a glass of water, bottle of Tylenol, and a note. I fumbled with my glasses that had been shoved up and thusly tangled in my hair. Once I had them secured over my eyes, I picked up the note.

_Good morning lazy ass! Surprised that I could sleep at all – I mean with the snoring louder than Cena and the hiccupping. But I did manage to get up on time, no thanks to you, and head down to the gym to start my day. I'm sure that you're going to edit the story appropriately since someone had to carry you to your own room last night, miss chaperone. Hopefully I'll see you before we break rank to head out this morning. Thanks for the company. –Randy_

"Holy effing shit. No one is ever going to believe this." I wasn't really sure that I totally believed it. I'll be darned. Looking at the table, I chugged the water and threw back a few Tylenol he had been thoughtful enough to leave out. I got up and stumbled my way over to the bathroom, and stood in the longest shower known to man. I had to get ready and look uber-presentable this morning; I was more afraid I would get caught in front of my bosses for being the Heidi Fleiss of table dancing in public – c'mon, all the cool kids are doing it – and I'd be fired for sure. After my preening, I stood in front of the mirror in my nicest black pencil skirt, black heels, crème silk halter shell, and my hair messily pulled up in a bun. I packed away everything, knowing I would have to check out in a few hours. When all my idle work was done, I decided to face my fear and head downstairs for something of the carb-laden variety.

As I step off the elevator, I'm perplexed at what I see. Every superstar I run into is dressed down; way down. I see some of the Divas in their PINK gear, and I'm wishing I could do that too; maybe on the plane after I put in my appearance. I look around and see grown men hiding in oversized sweats, sunglasses, and hats pulled low. I hear the methodically clicking of heels coming towards me on my right side – I have a feeling this is the point of no return…please God, don't let me get fired before I can take my first vacation day.

"Good morning, Drea!" I turn to see a very neat and cheerful Stephanie approaching. I know those shoes just by the front tip, and the clicking.

"Good morning, Stephanie," I lean in for the slight hug, "I love your Louboutans. Classic." She smiled from ear to ear.

"Well, I am so happy that we have found someone with an appreciation for good shoes." Stephanie leaned in closer, covering her mouth from the crowd, "So often we lack good taste around here. And, thank you. I suggest you get a pair at your earliest convenience. Heaven." Yeah, I'll just spend that kind of bread that I don't have, and if you only knew what kind of taste you've hired – I convinced 3 of the top 5 contenders to dance with me, booze-filled, on a strip club catwalk until 4 am.

"Ms. McMahon-" I was interrupted.

"Call me Stephanie, please."

"Oh, sorry, Stephanie," I started again, "I wanted to talk with you about some of my ideas. I did some observation last night, and I think there are some ways we can shore up your concerns about risk management."

"Drea, I'm glad you have already started taking notes! I need to speak with you too, but this is might change your position here a little bit." Uh oh. Here it comes. I'm gonna get canned. I wonder who told, and exactly how frowned upon it is to have to be carried through a hotel by Randy Orton when you're supposed to be watching out for him. "I've heard from some of the guys you've been assisting lately that they enjoy you being around. It's so refreshing to hear that the talent is happy – not the usual complaints and pissy attitudes. I've been asked if you might be able to stay on as sort of a personal concierge for some of the guys, and as much as I'm sure you'd do well wherever I put you, I'm sort of inclined to grant the request. How would you feel about that?"

I smiled and motioned for us to sit down at a table that opened up in the lobby, and as our chairs slide under the table, I opened my mouth – then promptly shut it. I mulled over what I needed to know, then asked, "I think it sounds okay, but could you maybe explain a little more about exactly what I would be doing that's any different from what I do now? I mean, I make sure they get where they need to go, field their calls, and try to keep as much off their shoulders as possible. What would change?"

Steph smiled and nodded. "Basically, nothing. Just more perks and less production work."

"Same level of pay?"

"Same. And travel expenses would be paid since you will be tailing the talent so much more than just heading to venues, and we figure it can get a little ridiculous to be in so many hotels and rental cars as they are. We will reimburse at the end of every month. You interested?" She looked expectantly into my eyes, and I tried to play it off all kinds of cool.

"Uh, yeah! Who wouldn't be? That is amazing!" Way to be the ice queen there, Drea.

Stephanie stood up and leaned over to meet my excited hug. "Congrats! I've already called the controller's office, and you should have all the cards and such at the next town, waiting for you at the hotel. Just please keep an eye on them for me, will you?" I saw who she gestured to; Ted and John were both passed out in various stages of hung over on the couches in the lobby, while Matt was buried in a book and Cody was smiling at his cell phone.

"No worries. They're men. How tough could this be?"

I stood and finished out my conversation with Stephanie. I'm basically at the boys beck and call. The perks to this job are amazing though; travel expenses are reimbursed (I did manage to confirm that I could not rent a Hummer in every town before Stephanie left though), and I'll get to stay in those sweet, sweet hotels for the big events on the private floors. I can have fun with them, and still be working! I immediately searched for florists, and decided to have some sent to Stephanie's office.

As the lobby started to clear out, Ted, John, and Cody were all still draped on furniture like they were decorative throws. I found myself running toward them, giddy as a school girl, and then I jumped on top of Ted. He awoke with a loud, "Oohf!", pulled his sunglasses up onto his forehead, and squinted at me.

"What the hell, Drea? Is there a good reason as to why you are waking me up?" Here I was thinking nothing could shake his good natured attitude; I was wrong. Apparently one too many glasses of Glenfiddich and a stern lecture from a strip-club bouncer on our way out could make him a little less than enthusiastic. My charm and uber-giddiness must have shown through, because I saw his smile slowly return to his face. "So, what is going on? Did someone shove the Eve into the fountain again?" He leaned up suddenly, throwing me sideways off the couch.

"No, fool, I just got an employment upgrade! I'm exclusively tailing you guys now! No more production work, just traveling around with the talent – and you – which is reimbursed! I'm freaking out!" Ted smiled slightly as his head followed a leggy bottle blonde who waved slightly. I awaited his return to reality. Didn't really happen, but I noticed that my excitement might have woken up Cody and John. I turned to see John lean forward rubbing his eyes.

"John, did you hear?" I nodded expectantly with a wide grin. John patted his knees as he rose up and offered me his hands to pull me up beside him.

"Seems as though someone or a group of someones went to bat for you. Especially when Stephanie Mac makes a change so quickly." His eyes sparkled and a small smirk crossed his lips. This face was very disarming; so adorable and it looked as like he would get you in the most fun trouble of your life, but keep you out of jail at the same time. I didn't get to talk as much with him in my time here yet, at least past the usual pleasantries, but I made a mental post-it note to get to know him on more personal level.

"You? John, who did this?" I leaned my head to the side, doing my best impression of a dog who was confused.

John's smirk turned into a full blown smile. "Well, I can't take all the credit," he poked at Cody, who groggily got up to his feet. "We saw Steph this morning, and she asked us how you had done thus far, and it was our civic duty to let her know that you have continually schooled Teddy, kept us in line while having a few cocktails and kept us out of trouble at the same time." My face went beet red as he recounted that they had revealed my penchant for liquor, dirty jokes, and table dancing to my boss of less than three months.

"John, ya'll didn't! Please tell me you didn't tell her everything! Right?" He and Cody laughed as my twang rang through the lobby. Ted had siddled up beside Cody, grinning ear to ear as he heard my embarrassment in the retort.

"Randy talked with her too, how come you're mad at us? Besides that, we don't even know what kind of dirt he told her about last night – he was done talking to her and was in the gym by the time we found Ted in Maryse's room this morning." My jaw opened down widely, and Cody punched Ted's arm playfully. That explains the blonde.

I leaned over to hug each of the guys as they smiled warmly. I owed them at least a round at the bar, which now that I was permanently tailing them, I might be able to oblige sooner rather than later.

"So now that you're all stuck with me, what's the plan?" I looked expectantly at the guys. Ted held up his hand, and bolted down the hallway that the blonde had traipsed down. I guess he was out.

"I have a promo event, and then I'm out of town. The brass at HQ wants to discuss a possible show move with me. But congrats, Drea, I'm sure you're gonna be so much fun." Cody leaned in and hugged me again before slapping John on the back and heading toward the front door of the hotel.

John looked around then settled back on me. By this time, I had subdued my jumpiness, and was looking at the ground. I heard him exhale softly, "So how are you getting to the next stop?"

Crap. Hadn't remembered that I would need to arrange this stuff for myself, and more importantly, for them. I didn't even know where the next stop was – needed to get email on my phone asap. "I'm not sure just yet. I guess all the excitement kind of got me tied up and, well, I don't have any plans." Despite having been on cloud nine just moments ago, I had now downgraded to cloud three and a half. I looked up at John with big, doe eyes – the kind that signal impending stress tears – and I think that he realized this might a possibility, too.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he ran his hand along my shoulder. "Really, please don't cry. I don't know why you would be so sad since you just leapt across half the hotel lobby, chipper as a kid with ice cream, but I don't deal well when women cry. Please don't." His expression was sincere, and as I glanced at him, his eyes were bright blue and darting back and forth. I nodded my head slowly up and down, and wiped a would-be tear from my eye.

I spoke low and softly, "I'm sorry, the realization finally came through. I'm a fixture here for the time being, and that means taking care of myself, and you guys, and making sure you all don't manage to kill yourselves," I paused. "I can't even remember to make a car reservation – what am I going to do?"

John's smile came back timidly as he listened. "How could you have known you weren't going back to the offices this morning? No reason to be so hard on yourself. How about you go get on some comfy clothes, because as hot as you look in that uptight secretary outfit," he raised his hand up and down next to me, and I felt the heat return to my cheeks with his compliment, "I know you can't be ok to travel in that gear. Grab your stuff, and you can just ride with me to the next stop. It'll gimme a chance to get to know you a little better…without a drink in your hand." Before I could say anything or even thank him, John had turned me around on my heels, and swatted my butt playfully to get me going. I turned my head to look over my shoulder, and I watched his grin get bigger as he raked his eyes over my backside while I headed over to the elevators. Did I just get my butt felt up by John?


	7. Everybody In

**CHAPTER 7**

Upstairs, I went into whirlwind mode. I tore things out of my suitcases, threw the dressy clothes back into suitcases. When I was totally convinced that all of my things were collected and secured, I drug my wonderful self and all my crap back down to the lobby. I stopped by where John and I had been talking before I was told to go upstairs, but I didn't see him anywhere. If this was another hazing effort, I was going to be a little upset. I didn't have to wait long though – John came back inside from the doors next to the valet stand out front. He had removed the hoodie, and was heading towards me in basketball shorts and a tshirt. The light gave an outline of him, and I found myself looking a little too long and a little too hard. I could only hope he would ask why I had the word PINK on my ass, so that I would know he had been doing the same thing.

He walked right over to me, and picked up my bags. Standing there holding my suitcases, he grinned as big as I've ever seen. I realized that I might have just been caught trying to eye-hump him, and I'm pretty sure he enjoyed having that knowledge. "You ready? The car is running, and I think it's just you and me."

"What about Ted?" Uh, you're kidding. Me in a vehicle with the same guy I just eye banged. Great.

"Last he told me, Maryse was going to be his traveling buddy."

"Well I know Cody is already gone, what about, uh, Matt?"

"He has a promotions event today here in town. He will fly in and meet us at the hotel. You know, for being the person in charge of our scheduled, you're surprisingly misinformed."

"And the tall one, Randy?"

"Same event. I did, however, get a text that you are to be brought to the new location. I think you may have found the one single soft-spot that my buddy has."

I looked at John incredulously for several reasons. First, I'm here with him getting ready to drag me on the road with him, and I seem to be complaining about being alone with him. Second, I found a soft spot with Randy? I'd have to get this story.

"Okay then, just us. I'll insist on paying for part of this though; you really didn't have to."

"Drea, we can talk about it later, okay? Besides, it will be nice to just get some company on the road that doesn't trash the car or make me stop every 5 minutes for more food."

I dropped off my key card as John hoisted my bags back up and walked outside. When I made my way out of the door, slipping my wallet back into my purse, and my aviators onto my head, he already had the door opened for me. I couldn't help but put on my happy face and give him a resounding thank you as I sat down in the car. He jogged around to the driver's side and slid in.

I looked over with a renewed sense of hope. This had to be the new start to my new job title. And I was going to enjoy my time with John, and revel in his attractiveness while I was at it. "So, where to?"

He looked over and smiled. "You and I are on our way to Phoenix. Ever been there?" I shook my head no. "You will like it, Drea."

The car rumbled to life as he pulled away from the hotel in first. I rearranged my seat and took off my flip flops. I knew that John was catching short glimpses and laughing under his breath at me. I decided that I could push it a little. I pulled my hair down from the now-messy bun I tried to accomplish, pushed the girls up a bit and pulled my cut wife beater down, showing a little more of the girls, and rolled my PINK sweats down a little to my hips. I know my fidgeting was tossing the car slightly, and I could feel John's gaze all over me.

"Good Lord; are you done yet? I can hardly drive." He laughed at his own joke. Eew.

"Just getting comfy. And by the way, how does one procure a rental that happens to be a new V8 Camaro 5-speed? I never thought I'd see this on the Enterprise site." From the reaction he gave me, he was impressed.

"You know something about cars. Unusual," John shook his head slightly and grinned.

"My uncle may have been a real jerk, but he was a mechanic and owned a car dealership. Chevy, specifically. I may or may not have picked up a few things." I patted the dashboard of the car, "Like my appreciation for a good Camaro." I smiled at him; for some reason I was starting to melt away that feeling of dread and worry. John seemed calm and approachable, which I never associate with men who are so damn hot. He stole a quick glance at my smile.

"I'm a little bit of a car guy myself, but I appreciate all makes. What's your dream car?" John's head tilted slightly, awaiting my response.

"Uh, well, if I could have anything it would be a '71 Malibu Supersport with Hurst shifter. Either that or the truck that Billy Bob had in Varsity Blues – that old blue Chevy with the chrome roll bar, nerf rails, and rocker panels. I like big trucks, too. Oh! This all makes sense now, though." I jumped around in my seat, turning toward him before I grabbed his arm in excitement. Wow. He works out a lot; and my breath catches in my throat.

"It all makes sense? Did I miss something?"

"No! I was talking with Randy last night, and he tried telling me that I was this girly girl, and when I clued him in that I don't drive a little VW Beetle, he said something about me sounding like you." I flicked my hands back and forth between he and I. "This is why Randy said that. I totally get it now." I smiled, amused at my own powers of deduction. John's laugh boomed through the car.

"That's a bit scary. I don't think I'd look nearly as good in that outfit as you do." My cheeks grew hot and I knew they were bright red. His smile started to fad a bit as the awkward pause came, and stayed, and I cleared my throat loudly.

Before I knew it, I grinned and looked him; he returned my smile. "Mister, I'm pretty sure if you went out in this outfit and looked better than me in it, we may have problems." He boomed again. John whipped the car onto the on-ramp for the interstate, and I started looking out the windows as the town escaped behind us. I was out on my own, on the road, driving with one of the most eligible bachelor's in the country. Or at least, I think he's single. I may want to check on this.

"I'm gonna sound like a total dork, but I don't know a lot about ya'll around here. Care to give me some particulars?" I leaned my head back against the headrest, and turned to watch John's reaction to the question. He fidgeted in his seat; readjusting and settling in for a long drive.

"What do you want to know?"

"What do you want to tell?" He looked bemused. "Where are you from?"

"Massachusetts. West Newbury." The minute I heard Massachusetts, my stomach turned.

"Pats fan, aren't you?" He smirked at me sideways as he nodded yes. "Yup, I think we're done here."

"What? What's wrong with being a Pats fan?" John looked surprised and amused at the same time, while I sat next to him – arms crossed. He seemed to be letting his accent peek out a little.

"We can just never be friends. You're Pats," I pushed against his shoulder, "and I'm Packers." I brought my hand back against my own chest. He laughed again.

"Packers? At least you didn't say Pittsburgh. I promise to never rub your nose in our success."

I got slightly defensive, "Your success? Last time you squared off against my team in the big game, you lost." John reached over and pushed my left shoulder lightly. Yeah, I like how this is going, well, I mean, other than the Pats thing.

"So you like football, too then I guess." I nodded at John. "I used to play a bit." He had used this line before. He was smirking, and I was melting in my seat.

"You flirt a lot, don't you, John?" I could barely contain my smile. I am pretty well convinced that I was attracted to him, and he might just feel very similar. I hope anyways.

"Well, sweet cheeks, I'm out on the road away from home at least 45 weeks out of the year. It's one of those things that helps a guy feel normal." He leaned over closer to me, resting his right elbow on the arm rest and smiling widely, "Plus, I'm good at it and it gets pretty girls to talk to me."

"Just promise me to never call me sweet cheeks again."

"Sure thing, sugar tits." Ugh. John Cena -1. Drea – 0.


	8. Road Trip

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think.**

At about hour 3 of our drive, I had asked John about every question of general knowledge that someone might want to know. He had brothers, played football – that topic alone kept us amused for about 25 minutes until team preferences were discussed, he is pretty laissez faire about life, doesn't always make his bed, went to college, likes the Simpsons (which endeared him to me further – and he was pleasantly surprised that I have episodes saved on my laptop), watches NASCAR (yeah, about that), and likes his '70 GTO. I countered with a '70 Chevelle Super Sport. He seems to appreciate the farm girl turned slight city, that I crack jokes all the time, and that I keep my dedication to sports alive and well. The further we got into the trip, the more relaxed he and I became. It was easy to talk to him, just like I was still at home with all my best friends piled around the table at the bar.

"Hey, don't mean to interrupt you, but can we maybe take a quick break." I winced, "I might need to stop."

He tried to look over and give me a face that was annoyed, but he softened up too early. "I guess I can, I mean – if I have to." Leave it to a man to be bothered about not making good enough time.

John exited from the highway and pulled into a parking spot in front of the rest stop building. Before he could say anything, I darted out and to the restroom like my life depended on it. I came out, washed my hands, and shivered slightly as I walked back out to the car. John had gotten out and was leaning up against the front grill, his arms crossed at his chest. "You didn't run over any old ladies in your race to the bathroom, did you?"

"Har-dee har har. Glad I could amuse you. But how are you not cold?" The sun had moved past mid-day, and already started its descent for the evening. I figured that because of his large stature, he needed more AC than I did, and that could explain the cold. I walked to get back over to the passenger side, and he followed me to shut the door behind me. Before sliding into the driver's seat, he rustled around in the trunk for a moment, then climbed inside.

"Whatcha got?"

"Here, take this. Your stuff is kind of inaccessible at the moment, and you'll be plenty warm in it." His grey sweatshirt was balled up in his hand. The look on his face was genuine; I started to take the shirt from him and my hand brushed against his. I saw his cheeks flush slightly and he looked down at his lap. I could barely force myself to take the shirt – if I did, I would lose the position my hand was in right now, against his, and the corresponding feeling that was coursing through my body. After was seemed like an eternity, I took the shirt from him and his hand dropped back onto his leg.

"Thank you," I could barely whisper. His phone started blowing up in the cup holder, and I watched him pick it up and examine it. He flipped it open and started talking while backing out of our parking place, ready to get back on the road.

"Hey man, how was the event? -Good, good. –Yeah, I think your early morning pow-wow worked, we're headed to Phoenix now. -Yeah, not too much further. Meet you at the hotel. –Okay dude, see you then. – No, I am not saying that. You can later. Bye." Click.

I started to pull the hoodie over my head. It smelled of him – like a fresh shower scent mixed with male machismo. I took a deep breath and I pulled the shirt down completely. It was big enough for me to tuck my legs up into, and when John saw me do it, I heard him snort to himself before chuckling. "Thanks. It's comfy."

"You're welcome. I could have turned the AC down though, you know."

"Yeah, but I can always put on more clothes. It's all good." I watched him speed back onto the highway. "So we are pretty close?"

"I'd say so. Randy and Matt are already on their way to the hotel – he said he was going to see about getting rooms that join into a suite. I think it is going to be us, uhm," he stammered over that word, "with Randy and Matt. As long as you are okay staying in the same room with one of us guys." I must have been smiling, because as John looked sideways, his face glazed over a bit and he smirked.

"It's cool. We'll figure it out."

I flipped through the radio channels until we ran into a hip hop station we both nodded to. The remainder of the drive was spent listening to the drone of the music and my looking out the window, snuggling up in the gianormous sweatshirt. It startled me when my phone went off, and when I picked it out of my pocket, I saw a text from my bestie at home.

_Listen here bitch, if I don't get an update on how wonderful that new life of yours is, I'm gonna hunt you down.–Lane_

I texted her back, knowing that my driver was looking over my shoulder. _Yeah, sorry bout that. I'll have to text you once I get into the hotel at Phoenix. In car with john right now. TONS to tell. Love you whore. 3 drea_

I waited a moment and the phone jingled again. _John? As in John fucking Cena? I knew I hated your bitch ass. Details at 10 pls. k thx bai._

I couldn't help but laugh at her. And miss her at the same time. Sure it's great to hang with the guys, and I was a lucky bitch for the men I would be hanging with lately, but I needed a little girl time too, and soon.


	9. Loose Lips Sink Ships

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think.**

Not too long past my txt lashing from my bestie, we started pulling into Phoenix proper. He was right – it was gorgeous at the very end of the day as the sun lit the sky purple. After winding through the crowded streets, we pulled up to the hotel – one of the fanciest places I'd seen in quite a while, and I crawled out of the car. John handed off the keys to the valet, and went behind the car to pick up the bags. I came back and stood behind him, picking up his duffel bag, and rolling the biggest suitcase behind me as I turned to enter the lobby. There was a young kid waiting with a luggage cart only half full, standing next to John, with both of them confused as they watched me.

"You sure you got that, Drea?" I turned around and he was grinning like a kid at the fair.

"No reason to worry, I got this." He laughed as he walked up beside me, with the bell boy trailing behind us, and into the hotel. As we entered, I saw the back of Matt's head sitting in a chair, buried in a book. I tried to creep up behind him, set down the bag and suitcase, and covered his glasses with my hands. "Guess who?" I smirked as he sat there, eerily calm.

"Well, I hope it's the person who is going to preoccupy Randy so I can get some work done." I moved my hands, surprised about what Matt had said, and he turned around with a giant smile crossing his adorable face. He got up and leaned across the chair, giving me a friendly welcome hug.

"How did the promo event go?" Matt had one of those faces; that even if he was angry, would probably look totally approachable and cute. Just one of those guys next door, who would have been your best friend through all of your formative years, and had every girl drooling over him as you walk through the halls in high school. His eyes were always warm and his glasses were only making him cuter.

"Ah, it was fine. Nothing big – other than the fact that Randy just would not shut up about yo-"

"Matt!" Randy was walking back towards the group from the check-in desk. Matt winked at me after the outburst.

Randy looked perturbed, and had the key cards in his hand. He nodded at John, and gruffly picked up the suitcase I had rolled beside me. "Follow me. We're up on the top floor, and we lucked out – there was an attached double suite." John and Randy fell in, leading Matt and myself to the elevators. Matt and I dawdled a bit behind the other two, and as John's duffel bag kept hitting me in the butt as we ambled to where John and Randy were waiting, Matt leaned a little closer to me. "You know Randy talked to Steph this morning, too. He asked her to keep you close; I think he likes you a bit. Didn't stop talking to about you the whole event."

I'm sure I was turning beet red, and Matt laughed softly before clearing his throat as we approached the open elevator. I glanced up at him, and mouthed, "_Really?_" in his direction. He nodded his head. The rest of the ride to the top floor was spent with me trying to stifle my girlish nervous giggling, Matt trying not to laugh, and listening to Randy huff and puff. I got the feeling that John knew something was going on but felt it smarter to just stay out of it, so he leaned against the wall. As the elevator dinged, we came pouring out, with Randy leading us to what looked to be the best room the place had, which was saying something.

Randy slid a card into the door, and opened it wide. I was impressed, to say the very least. There is a big living room area, and there were two rooms on either end of the community room. John and Randy tucked to one side, so Matt and I went the opposite direction. I tossed the duffel bag down, and ran ahead of him, jumping onto one of the beds. Matt leaned up on the door frame, watching my inane silliness, and laughing uncontrollably. "You'd think you've never stayed in a hotel before."

"Nothing this nice! Or big! I mean, wow!" My hair kept hitting me in the face as I bounced back up and down. I eventually tired of expending this much energy, and dropped down onto my butt on the bed. I leaned back with a whoof of air, and flung my arms above my head. Matt walked around my bed and set down his bag on the other.

"Well, you should have a ton of fun here then. Especially since you're going to have most of this room to yourself tonight. I have a date." He grinned.

"Oh?" I couldn't help but sound surprised.

"Yeah. I have a good friend from home who moved her a while ago. She is taking me out, and I'm sure we will end up hanging out at her place. You will be right here with the two gorillas in the other end of the suite." I leaned up and flipped over, laying on my stomach with my hands under my chin. I smiled at his elevated mood, and the warm smile that crossed his face at the mention of a kindred spirit. He was smitten, and it was easy to see. As he was wandering around the room, stowing his things here and there, I thought it might be the best time to ask the question that had been nagging me for sometime.

"Hey, Matt, can I ask you a question?"

"You already did, but I'll let you ask another." He was in a good mood, especially with the smart ass remark I just received. Oh well, better take my shot.

"What's up with the two in the other room? I've heard John makes questionable female choices, and Randy seems a little grumpy all the time. What's the story?"

Matt sighed and sat down on the bed opposite me. He smirked at me, and began, "I figured you would ask eventually."

"Well, if I'm going to work with you all, and now in a much more closely affiliated position, I think this might be pertinent information. Especially if one of them is talking about me out of school." I leaned up and sat cross-legged facing him. I grinned as his face lightened up further.

"Okay – but remember these are my friends, and you didn't hear anything from me." He smiled. "John and Randy have known each other for a while. It looks like they don't like each other, but they are friends. Randy is a third generation guy, and John's pretty well seasoned."

"Matt, that's not what I'm talking about. Why is Randy grumpy? And why does someone who is as cute as John bring home skanky girls?" I probably shouldn't have said the last, since I hadn't seen any of these girls up close, but it came flying out anyways.

"Well, John doesn't exactly bring home nasty girls. I mean, he makes choices that I don't think I would make, but I'm not as noticeable as he is. Plus, I didn't get divorced because my wife cheated on me all the time." Ouch. He was rebounding, and suddenly it made more sense.

"So he's just kind of in recovery then, huh?"

"Yeah, that's what we all figure. He loved her; he had that kind of love that makes men crazy and send flowers all the time, even if you're not the one who did anything wrong in the fight." Matt laughed softly. I knew what he was talking about, but not from personal experience.

I redirected him, "So, the wife had him all sprung out, and he finds out that she is double dipping while he is gone. That's sad – any girl who would cheat on a guy like that, sucks."

"It's pretty much the consensus around here. But he stays with Randy because Randy doesn't judge and lets him do what he needs to do to get back to normal."

"And so he is sowing his wild oats right now."

Matt nodded. "He picks pretty girls, but they just tend to be ring rats." He must have picked up my confusion with that one, because he started to explain immediately. "A ring rat is like a groupie. So he basically finds one that can keep his mind off the thoughts, and invites her back to the room. But, he does usually find the nicest ones, and they are far from skanky."

"Well, I totally understand why he would do that now. Poor guy." I suddenly had a pang of guilt for ever thinking that John would be that type of man to simply be looking to get ass. He was doing it to cope with a situation that might tear down someone, and he just didn't have the same access to family for support. I have to learn to keep my mouth shut and quit jumping to conclusions. "Clears up John. What about Randy?" Matt leaned back on his elbows, amused by my persistence.

"Randy is himself. He always seems a bit moody. But, like I mentioned earlier, I think he's intrigued by you. Couldn't stop talking about you whenever he got the chance. Sad, really," Matt giggled as I felt my cheeks get flushed.

"So married? Divorced? What?" I leaned forward a bit, waiting for his response.

"He is single; has been for a while. He doesn't date a lot, and doesn't date any women we work with – says they are all trouble." Matt's face scruntched up a bit. "Maryse tried a little when she first joined, but he shut her down all the time. She gave up."

I'd honed my rolodex of the employees, and suddenly the face that matched the name popped into my head; the blonde? Wow, he must really be a type-specific guy, or take his job super seriously. "So the blonde that Ted is chasing wanted Randy." Again, Matt nodded to me. "And he doesn't date, or …"

Matt smiled, and finished my answer, "He does date." He turned and looked at the clock, "And I would tell you more, but I'm going to be late. So, Drea, have fun with the two ogres without me." I climbed off the bed and met him at the end for a quick hug. "I'll be back in the morning most likely." He scribbled down his cell number on a pad of paper on the ledge and handed it to me.

"Be a good kid." Matt winked at my advice, which I'm sure, meant hell no. I watched as he bounded out of the room door on our side and I took a look around. A whole room wing, off a suite, at a gorgeous hotel, and I'm here on my own. Ish.


	10. Questionable Motives

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think.**

As I walked out into the common room, I heard a conversation coming from Randy and John's room. I hated to eavesdrop, and I tried not to, but the TV wasn't on and I couldn't help but hear.

"_Randy, dude – she knows. She would be stupid not to._"

"_Yeah, remind me to kick Matt's ass. Besides, I'm not that into her. I mean she does her job and she's not always fucking annoying. And…maybe it was just nice to have someone to be around for a reason other than I'm who am. You know. C'mon."_

"_Well enjoy it, whatever it happens to be. I think I'm going to hit the bar down the street, and have a steak. But at least this time, Orton, you picked a normal one. She likes cars._" John laughed as I heard something whoosh through the air. "_Hey, stop throwing shit!_"

"_Great. She's the female version of you."_

_"Don't knock her 'cause she's obviously better than you then." __John chuckled._

Great, I was a topic of conversation. And they were laughing about me. I walked over to the couch, and curled up on one of the arms. I reached over and grabbed the remote, flicking the TV on. John came out of the room about the time I settled on watching Jersey Shore re-runs. Did I mention my love of Vinny and Snooki? As John walked over to me, I saw his nose curl up slightly at what I was watching, and then the most amusing thing happened. He started fist pumping along with the house music in the background. I thought I would pee my pants, I was laughing so hard I nearly fell off the couch.

"I'm heading out. You're welcome to join me later if you like. Apparently there are some killer clubs around town. I think Randy is going to meet Ted and Maryse to go." He walked to the desk and wrote down a note. "I left my cell number over here. Lemme know if you need anything." If the ladies back home only knew I was getting cell numbers left and right from hot dudes.

"Thanks, but I still don't know what I'll be doing tonight. If I go out, I might give you a call." John waved back as he walked out the door. I turned my attention back to the television, figuring that I would eventually see Randy appear. I was right. He came out a couple minutes later in jeans and a tshirt that looked like it would rip apart instantly if he flexed. He sat down on the other end of the couch, and snurled at my choice in television viewing.

"Don't say a word. It's one of my guilty pleasures."

"Wasn't going to say a thing. So you in for the night?" He stretched his arm out over the back of the couch as his legs jutted out. I studied his face carefully. He looked too calm, like he was trying too hard. He cleared his throat, and I came crashing back to reality.

"Well, I don't know. I guess if ya'll go out, I will probably have to go with you. Can't let my charges get into trouble without being there to help them." Randy smiled, and the look on his face was devilish. I think he had a plan.

"Go get ready then. We'll scare up some food and we can meet Ted. Apparently there are some friends of friends who own a club with a big VIP section. Now, go." He pointed back to my room.

"Well, I would love to, Mister Control Freak, but all my stuff is probably in your room. John had my suitcases. If you can bring them into my room, I can start." He sprang up and offered me a hand. I took it and he pulled me up off the couch, and then pushed me in the direction of my room. I started in, and no sooner did I have the bathroom light on, did he toss my suitcases down on my bed. "There. Now get dressed."


	11. The Inferno

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars, the WWE itself, or any television characters alluded to or mentioned herein. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think.**

I growled at Randy's directness, but he had just grinned and shook me off. I picked out a short jean skirt, camo printed bustier shirt, and some stacked black leather studded cage heels. I pulled my hair half-up and let the rest hang down wavy. I rimmed my eyes with a black line, and added some light gold highlighter to my brow line, cheeks and lips. I came walking out of the bedroom to find Randy leaning on his knees, still watching my show. I wandered up behind him, clutch in my hand, catching a quick reflection of myself in the mirror.

"Are you more of a Sammi or J-Wow guy?" He turned quickly and took a long, hard look at my outfit. I saw his eyes narrow and the corner of his mouth being bit hard.

"Neither. You going out in this?"

"What's wrong with it? I think I look good." Randy stood up shaking his head, and readjusted his jeans. I think he agreed with me whether he wanted to admit it or not. I followed him as he grabbed a key card off the counter, and headed out the door. I saw him whip out his cell and send a quick text. We stood by the elevator until I saw Ted and the blonde emerge down the hall, headed toward us. I hope she was at least nice this time; most of our interactions were brief and less than cordial due to someone's attitude about my time spent with my superstars.

"Hey, Randy, how was the event today?" They did that one-armed guy hug as Randy nodded. "Hi Drea. You've talked to Maryse before, right? Baby, you remember Drea Macklin, she is the guy's new assistant." I offered the blonde a tight smile and head nod. She checked her nails.

"I like your shoes, very posh." I was trying to be nice. Trying.

The blonde sniffed haughtily, "Yes, they are. I guess that the ability to properly dress oneself is a dying art." Oh, hell no. Did bitch just insult my outfit? I'm wearing amazing Michael Kors shoes, whore. I think Randy caught my mood, since he pushed me to a side of the elevator by myself when the door opened. I crossed my arms in anger, and when she was more centered between Ted and Randy, Maryse seemed much happier. Bitch.

"So, where are we going tonight, and who is the hook-up here?" Randy clapped his hands together before shoving them into his pockets. The blonde perked up again.

"Oh, it is a friend of my friend. They just opened the bar. Supposed to be an amazing club." She looked like she was going to pee in her pants due to excitement. This ought to be fun. I'm gonna have to put up with her giddiness all night, and Ted seemed oblivious that she was more excited to talk to Randy than to be holding his arm. Ick.

"Randy," as his name left my lips, Randy turned to face me quickly, "what about dinner?" Randy turned to the Ted and Maryse, who both shook their heads. He looked over his shoulder at me, thinking fast; he had totally forgotten about me. I huffed, "Never mind, let's just go."

I spent the entire ride in silence. When we came to the front entrance of the club, it was a bit of a surprise. This was no fancy place, and there were lines of people covered in tattoos and piercings waiting to get inside. Don't get me wrong, I've got a couple pierced body parts, and Randy's arms haven't been seen without ink in years I would bet. I'm all for personal freedom, but I counted on going to a huge preppy type club, with a big VIP room, full of vodka. I think we would be lucky to leave here alive. As we thanked the driver and Randy took down the number to call later, Ted and Maryse went ahead of us and inside. Randy came up next to me, and grabbed the back part of my arm.

"Listen to me. Do not get out of my sight. I don't like the looks of this joint, and whether or not it's supposed to be the other way around, my guess is that you couldn't fight your way out of here if your life depended on it." He whispered in my ear; his face looked harder than stone. I nodded. I had no plans of leaving the non-friendly confines of his arm reach. We walked past the bouncer and inside. It didn't get much better, but there was a small section that had been roped off for us. Ted and Maryse were already in it, holding court from the large booth overlooking the dance floor. We walked up, and Randy pushed me to the inside of the booth, which seemed to place the blonde in a bit of a pout – I think she was planning on having been placed between Ted and Randy. Now, she is next to me and the man who was catering to her every whim.

The waitress was pleasant, but I couldn't stop staring at her facial decorations. So many holes. _Ba-dum-ching!_ I ordered a Grey Goose vodka tonic, and Randy asked for whiskey with some chasers. There was a round of shots that were brought back by our waitress, apparently bank rolled by Maryse's friend of her friend, who told us to drink up for free tonight. I may not like the bitch, but the once removed friend was kind enough to offer, so why should I refuse.


	12. The Bodyguard

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think.**

About two hours into our night, I realized that I must go in search of a bathroom. I had to plead with Randy to just trust me long enough to get to the ladies' room on my own. Geez, for being a total dick, he was way too overprotective of someone he doesn't seem to give a shit about. I stopped off at the bar, and pointed to our table as I spoke with the bar tender. I asked if he would make me another round and send it up to the table for my triumphant return. As I started to head back to the restroom, I felt a hand run up my leg and under the skirt, and heard a husky voice in my ear, "Hey sugar, you know Maryse too, huh?"

I turned and there was a stubbly man sitting on a bar stool with his hand on my ass. He smiled and I recoiled. I could tell that if he maybe stayed out of a bar, he might be cute, but in this light, and with the choices he'd made, it didn't turn out so well. I grabbed his wrist and pulled it from my ass. "Excuse me, perv, but if you touch me again, I will stomp on your balls with the pointy end of my heels." I turned to walk away, and the hand that had been upon my ass grabbed my wrist in return.

"Promise?" He laughed at himself. "I'm the owner, and if you're not nice, then I can have you thrown out. You should be nicer to the man who is supplying your booze, bitch."

"If you didn't offer, we would have paid. Go fuck yourself!" I yanked my arm from his grasp, and I took off, practically running, to the bathroom. Reminder to self – tell Maryse that her friend's friends are as skanky as she seems to be. Ugh.

The bathroom was a single room with a push lock. And it was in serious need of a cleaning crew. I hovered and managed to wash my hands. I glanced in the broken mirror long enough to confirm that I still looked okay. I reached for the lock and slowly opened up the door – and it busted in on me; hard. Who ever it was shoved me back against the sink, and my head bounced off the mirror, and I heard that noise that shattered glass makes hitting the floor. "What the fuck?" I tried to yell out more, but my mouth was covered.

"You say another fucking word and they won't find you, bitch." I barely caught a quick glimpse; it was that gross bar guy, and now, I'm being banged around this gross bathroom because of it. Fuck.

He moved his other hand to one of my arms, and pinned it behind my back. He twisted it up until I yelped in pain. He kicked my legs apart and started running his other hand along my ass, pulling my skirt up over my hips before he yanked my hair back. Even if I had yelled, no one would be able to hear me – the music changed and thumped harder than before. I really got scared in knowing that this would not be a good ending. I managed to wiggle my other arm out and grab this perv's neck, and I gripped for all I was worth. He laughed through my hold, elbowed my hand away from his throat, and hit me hard across the face. When I say hard, it was that type that sends your jaw flying before the rest of your head catches up. I saw stars. This is going down the wrong road if I didn't do something drastic.

I started jumping around like a kid with ADD and unlimited access to pixie sticks, and trying pulling everything free that I could possible squirm loose. I finally got one of my legs out and around his knee. I kicked the back part of my heel into his kneecap hard, and he backed up and let go of my other arm behind my back. I drew my knee up and connected with his groin; he groaned loudly. I pushed him back, and he landed against the door to freedom. I stomped down and ground my heel into the top of his foot. I got him off-centered enough to squeeze through the door.

The minute I got out of the bathroom, I flat out ran through the sea of people back to where Randy was talking with Ted over Maryse. She looked happy as a clam until I showed back up, gasping for air and trying to pull my skirt back down over my hips.

"Oh my God, what did you do?" Mental note – I would hit that bitch when I got the chance, whether I got fired or not. Randy and Ted both turned towards me, and I saw surprise. Ted couldn't close his mouth, and Randy jumped up beside me, putting both hands on my arms. I winced at him when he did – he managed to hit a sore spot on my arm.

"What the fuck happened to you? Tell me right now." He looked up and glared around the club. His soft eyes that I had admired every chance before this that he allowed, had gone cold, like ice. His stare was pointed and I felt him flex his arms. Ted came scooting out behind him after he crossed over Maryse, who looked vaguely bored at the whole situation.

"Can we just go?" I looked up and pleaded with Randy. I know there had to be tears streaming down my cheeks. I was sure my face was smeared, my hair was everywhere it wasn't supposed to be, and I just wanted to get as far away as possible from this place, and the dirtiness that was hiding in the bathroom still. Or at least I hoped that it was still hiding out.

Randy nodded silently, but I knew he was on red alert. There was no discussion or lecture about how he was right. I was totally surprised; he just started to lead the procession out to the promised land of rides home and away from this hell. He parted the crowds, and waived off men as they started to recognize him. We were almost to the door when something reached out and caught my hand, pulling me back into a crowd. I turned my head around to see a very pissed off dirty man; the problem from the ladies room. I yelled Randy's name, but wasn't sure if he heard me. Dirty man yanked me around and to him hard; I couldn't pull my way out of it, despite my efforts. I kept screaming my head off, trying in vain to break away. You would think that the throng of patrons would be able to tell the difference between my screaming for help and someone who is enjoying their night. Dear God, please let someone have heard me or know this is wrong and out of place.

I felt a very strong hand on my shoulder, and heard a gruff voice yell "Drea duck!" in my ear. I tucked my head immediately, and felt the rush of air go flying over the top of my scalp. Whatever just flew over me connected with the face of Dirty, and he released me immediately. I spun around and saw Randy's arm outstretched over me, with a look on his face that caused my hair to stand on end. It was that Viper side that he shows as his persona, but this was only about a hundred times more intense. He pulled his arm back, and shook his hand down once. There was blood on his knuckles and Dirty guy had gone flying back about ten feet, causing a crater to form in the crowd around us. I stood back up, and grabbed Randy's hand that was on my shoulder. We quickly made for the door, and Randy dragged me to the corner away from the club door. He flagged one of the cabs, and pushed me inside. "Downtown Four Seasons. Now."


	13. Tip of the Iceberg

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think. ****Thanks to Trebug for the words of encouragement. Hope you, and all other readers enjoy!**

**CHAPTER 13**

I felt his eyes sizing up the wrath on my face. Randy's look was a mix of anger, rage, and sympathy – it was kind of odd. I could feel that my eye was swelling up, and I figured that my tears probably smeared my excellent make-up job. I touched the side of my mouth, winced, and pulled back my fingers that had sticky blood on them. My arms were sore, my ribs were sore for some reason, and the back of my head was thumping like the bassline at rap concert. Randy softly brushed his hand against my swollen cheek. "Drea…" It was a rare moment of humanity from him, and honestly, it was a little scary.

"How is your hand?" I took both of his hands and could instantly tell which hand he had used in dispatching Mr. Grabby McHandsy. There was blood covering his knuckles. I gingerly wrapped both of my hands around his. I looked up and he was watching me concern myself with his wounds. The cab pulled up in front of the hotel lobby.

I slid out of the cab behind Randy. He tucked me behind him, leaving an arm for me to cling to. We passed right by a group of the talent who were waiving for Randy to join them, and he waived them off. I looked no where but at the floor until we hit the elevator. It was silent between us until I heard the ding, we exited on our floor, and the key slid into the card reader. Randy opened the door, whisked me in, and then shut it behind us. I stood in the common room, holding one of my own arms down my side.

"Drea, why don't you go in the bathroom and get changed. I'll grab some ice; you'll need it." Randy turned to the mini-fridge and took out some waters and the ice tray. I refused to move.

"Will you come with me? I can't say a bathroom is really where I want to go on my own right now." He nodded after the corners of his lips twitched at my smartass nature, and followed me into my room. I raised my foot onto my bed and tried to lean over to unfasten my shoes, but had to straighten back up, wincing in pain.

"Hang on, I'll help." Randy sat down on the bed, and took my foot in his hands again. "Haven't we done this before?" I noticed his smirk as he slid my first shoe off. "Now, gimme the other one." I complied and in no time, I was barefooted, and about six inches shorter. "Tell me again what your job here is? So far, I'm pretty sure I've taken more care of you than you have of us."

I walked slowly over to the bathroom, jumped slightly as I turned on the light, and took out a washcloth. While running it under the cold water, I looked in the mirror. My eyes were both puffy, but the right would most certainly be swollen and black in no time. I had a huge welt on the right cheek, and my lips were split open in several places. I grimaced every time the rag touched my face, but managed to remove most of the make up and streaked mascara that was down both cheeks. I went to pull my hair back all the way into a loose pony tail, but almost shouted in pain when I grabbed the backside of my head. There was a goose egg back there the size of a baseball. This was all really gonna hurt in the morning.

I came out to find Randy pacing around my bedroom. He handed me a pair of my boyshorts and one of his sweatshirts. I didn't question the mix and match set, or why he had gone through my stuff to get my shorts and didn't think to bring me my own shirt, but instead went to putting them on. I didn't even go into the bathroom or the other part of the suite. I figured he was too busy pacing to notice. I didn't count on the bruises that were appearing on my hips and ribs, so every move and touch was hurting like an SOB. "Ouch," I murmured under my breath as I pulled my shorts up under the sweatshirt. Randy immediately stopped and turned to me.

"Normally I'd tell you nice ass, but not right now. Sit down here and explain to me just what happened. And," he turned to and grabbed a couple of the bags he had filled with ice, then patted the bed as he sat down. "Put these on those bruises, otherwise it's gonna hurt in the morning."


	14. Temper Tantrum

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think.**

**CHAPTER 14**

I did as I was told, and then proceeded to lay back as Randy adjusted and managed to writhe himself around me. I held one of the bags to my ribs, and put the other over the right side of my face. I wanted to talk immediately, but I couldn't – it was like the whole event was fuzzy and not real until I spoke about it. Randy started tapping on my other arm, awaiting my explanation.

"Well, I went to the bar on the way to the bathroom and asked the bartender to send us more drinks. And as I turned to go to the bathroom, that douche had his hand up my skirt on my ass. He said something about being friends with Maryse, and that he was the owner, and we weren't appreciating his offers. I told him to take his hands off me, and went on to the ladies. As I'm trying to leave, he crashes through the door, and pushed me against the sink and mirror – thus leading the welt on the back of my head. He had my arm held behind my back, and kicked my legs apart; he pulled my skirt up above my hips…" My lips had started to quiver and my eyes close as tears welled up. Randy scooted closer, and I could hear how fast his heart was beating, his breath was ragged. I figured he might be angry enough to kill by this point. I took a deep breath and finished, "But before he could do anything I hit him, then kneed him in the groin, and stomped on his foot. I squeezed out the door and came straight to you. I'm so sorry, Randy. You must think I'm nothing but trouble. I'm so sorry!" I started crying full force, and the tears stung as they rolled down my face.

"No, no, no…Drea, don't cry. I'm not mad at you – that fucking punk who thinks that is okay – but not you. It's okay." He lightly placed an arm over me. I couldn't stop the tears from flowing, and he leaned his head down on mine. The only thing I could replay is what might have happened had Randy not been there, then I realized he was being someone other than himself. When did his heart melt and he become this caring? Should I be worried?

There was a loud banging on the door, and Randy got up to go answer it. I stayed curled up on my bed, trying to block out bad thoughts. I heard Randy get angry with the person at the door, and I figured out it was Ted and Maryse. The rooms shook as he threw the door open and growled.

"_JUST WHERE THERE HELL DID YOU TAKE US? SHE COULD HAVE BEEN HURT!_"

"_Is she okay? The owner was still out cold when we left."_

_"Yes, and he will probably tell everyone of my friends about this…no thanks to you, Randy. Always with the temper-tantrums. And this time it's not even over anything important."_

_"He almost raped her, you stupid bitch. How could you know anyone who would be friends with that piece of shit?"_

_"Hey now, we are all upset about what happened, but don't take it out on Maryse…"_

_"Oh like hell I'm not going to take it out on her! She delivered Drea to the asshole. It was her pick. God, how dumb can you be?"_

_"Humpf. Maybe if that dumb bitch would learn to be nicer to people, she wouldn't be in this situation."_

_"GET HER OUT OF HERE BEFORE I SHUT HER UP! NOW!"_ The door slammed and Randy stomped back into my room, pacing back and forth, seething in anger. I leaned up gingerly, and turned over to face him.

"Randy, please calm down. It's no one's fault"

"It's that bitch's fault! She brought us to that asshole." Well I had a hard time arguing the other side on that one. Maybe the best way to go would be to just agree.

"You are right. She's a giant bitch whore, and I'll blame this on her until I die." Randy stopped his pacing and started laughing. I leaned up a bit further on the bed and winced at him. He really was laughing. Maybe he had snapped and now I'm in danger of getting that lesson he offered Maryse.

"Bitch whore? All the names in the world for a woman who takes us to a place and almost gets you raped, and bitch whore is the best you got?"

"I can do better, I just choose not to at this time." I curled my lips up in a smile as much as was possible – believe it or not, when you get your face busted up, smiling hurts worse than frowning. If this is what botox felt like, I'm going to be one wrinkly lady. "If I use all my good ones now, what will I use later when I can tell her face-to-face?" I held my arms up slowly, shrugging.

Randy's smile had not diminished, but now one arm was tucked under the other, and his hand was rubbing on his chin. He was up to something.

"Whatever it is you are thinking, don't." I tried to look all serious at him, but I was looking with my face turned to one side, and it just made him crack up further. He finally gave up with the plotting, and sat down next to me on the bed.

"So you got him once or twice, huh?"

"Believe it or not, those heels serve several purposes. If you kick someone's kneecap with them, he will shout like a little girl." Again, I tried to keep the smile up, but it hurt like all get out. I slowly got up from the bed and started toward where his pacing had stopped. "Randy, I really have to thank you." He held up his hand, but I took mine, and placed it over his. "No, really. Had it not been for you, it would have been worse. I'm so sorry that you had to come to bat for me. I'll go back down there tomorrow and make sure nothing happens. I'll take care of it. I promise."

His eyes were languid pools of blue until I finished the last statement, and they rose up in flames and his eyebrows narrowed. "YOU will not be going anywhere near there. I am going to call Steph, and then if anyone goes anywhere, I'm taking John down there and having a small, _chat_, with that douche bag if I can find him."

"Randy, this is really my responsibility." I knew it wasn't going to fly. I had known him less time than a full season of television, and I already knew my idea had a snowball's chance in hell with this guy. I already knew that when his eyes were barely visible and he issued any edicts, they were going to stick. "I'll text Stephanie now, and I'll get security to come back down with me. I can't risk you getting into any more trouble." I picked up my phone and sent Stephanie a text – _Hey Steph, it's Drea. Got to tell you something. Possible legal matter. Pls call or txt back asap. Thx._

Randy sat trying to stare me down – luckily enough, it was much more of an even battle when I only had 1 good eye to use in the contest. My phone went off, which is the only reason why he won. "Look, here is Steph now. I'm gonna call her." I took a big gulp and dialed the numbers.


	15. Whispers

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think.**

**CHAPTER 15**

I told Steph the story, and Randy paced all over my room and the suite while I recounted it again. I told her I wanted to go and give a statement to the cops, but only if a meeting with the club owner didn't garner the results I wanted. I told her while he may report Randy, once I tell the officer that he was keeping me from being raped, they will probably cut him some slack. She agreed that it would be best to talk to the guy before leaving town, but said security wouldn't be available – take someone I trust. I assured her it would be given to legal after it was done, and she thanked me for alerting me quickly – and wished me a speedy recovery. She was thoughtful…I like her.

As I hung up the phone, I realized that Randy has escaped to the common area when I heard a hushed conversation. I hoped he wasn't out there making plans, so I eased open the door, and stood in the doorway. "Randy, who are you talking –" I stopped. John stood next to the door, by himself this time, and they both turned as my voice floated in the air. "Hi – I didn't hear the door." John had his hands buried deep in his pockets, but the surprised look on his face was enough to dash anyone's hope of looking normal.

"Drea." It was like he had exhaled every bit of air he had in his chest. He pushed around Randy and came over to me, Randy following closely behind. He stood in front of me for a moment, his arms had left his sides, hands out of his pocket, and outstretched like he wanted to give me a hug, but didn't know how. I smiled slowly.

"Dude, if you think I look bad, you should see the other guy." Saying it made his face soften right up into a thin smile, and made me remember that Randy's hand was a little on the swelled side. "Oh, shit! Randy, your hand!" I tucked back into my room and grabbed a bag of ice that was on the nightstand, then walked over to Randy, picking up his hand and slowly lowering the bag of ice onto his knuckles. If it hurt, he wasn't going to show me. "C'mon guys, lets just go sit in here or find a place to take a load off. I'm getting a little worn out."

John placed his hand on my shoulder lightly, and I looked up at him through my ever-blackening eye. His blue eyes were steel and darted back and forth as he took a mental note of the sad sight that was myself at the moment. "I can't…Are you…God." He looked back at Randy, who looked down at the ground, then back at me.

"It's really not as bad as it seems. I'll be fine in a while, promise." I twitched my mouth, attempting to grin. "Why don't we all figure out where the arrangements are for the night, 'cause I'm about to lay down. You guys don't have to stay in here, I don't want to keep you from your beds." Secretly, I was praying they would turn me down.

"Like I'm going to let you out of my sight. Room. Now." Randy pointed toward my door. "You coming Cena?" John nodded and followed behind me. John sat on the bed opposite me. Randy sat down at the head of my bed, leaning on most of the pillows. I went to grab one from him, and he instead motioned for me to just lay down on his arm. I figured it might be better to just do as I was told rather than argue; I was still in hot water over my last idea.

I didn't want sleep, but I couldn't really fight it. I was encapsulated by Randy around my back as I lay on my side, and John had laid back on the other bed for a while. I heard hushed murmurs as I drifted away.

_"What the hell man?"_

_"It was that stupid dick that Maryse hooked us up with. He grabbed her ass when she was walking to the bathroom, then pushed the door in on her."_

_"Was she –"_

_"No, she said no."_

_"Whew. How'd she get out?"_

_"She kicked in his legs and kneed him in the groin. Apparently derailed him for a minute – those big ass shoes get driven into my feet and I'll promise I'd scream like a girl."_

_John laughed softly, "Yeah. Seems like she may give you a run for your money. God, she looks so sad and pathetic now though. Her face is going to hurt like crazy."_

_"Dude, check this out." _My shorts had slid up a little higher than I thought, and Randy so aptly pointed out the massive bruise forming on my hip. I heard John draw a quick breath in.

_"So how did you get her out?"_

_"She came running up to the table and said let's go. She was a freaking mess. As we were leaving, the guy came outta nowhere and grabbed her again. I punched him in the face and sent him flying."_

_"Damn."_

_"We get back here, she won't let me out of her sight, and then Ted and that bitch came by. Stupid girl actually had the balls to blame this one for what happened."_

_"You didn't hit her did you? But it's you, so even if you did, I'm sure she'd like it."_

_"Threatened to kick her ass if Ted didn't make her disappear."_

_"We'll have to watch her, and she is going to doc tomorrow."_

_"Yeah. She's trying to tell me she is gonna have to go back to that joint to talk to the douche-"_

_"Like fucking hell she is!"_

_"No- we're going with her." _Randy paused. _"I'm so fucking tired of all this Maryse drama. Everything she has a hand in turns to shit. At least this one is out. I guess I'll stay in here tonight."_

_"We both will. Hand me the remote."_ It was the last thing I remembered, and I hunkered in closer to the wall around my back.


	16. The Second Round

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think. Big shout-outs to Trebug, ., Bingobaby, agnesita1385, and Ley Elizabeth for the reviews and constructive help – I appreciate it greatly!**

**CHAPTER 16**

The cracks between the curtains let in the radiant light of an early morning. My good eye fluttered open, and I was greeted with the sounds of a chainsaw coming from the other bed. I lay still trying to get all my bearings. My jaw was horribly sore, and I could barely open my right eye. My ribs were tender, and I felt something heavy sitting on my side; I lifted my arm – ouch – and noticed there was a very large, tan arm locked around my waist. The bruise Randy had pointed to last night was coming in as a deep purple welt, and I didn't even want to try and touch it. Leaning up slightly on my elbow, I see John passed out across from me, mouth wide open, snoring like a lumberjack. I turn my head slightly and see Randy's face. He looked so much more calm when he was sleeping. The eyebrows weren't pointed, and his jaw remained unclenched.

I managed to slide myself out from under Randy's arm, and shut the door to the room softly as I padded into the common room. I walked past a mirror, and the glimpse I caught of myself caused me to stop in my tracks. I'd never thought I would ever see myself with these types of wounds. I pressed my fingers against the puffy cheek and swollen lip. I would have stayed there to look longer, but the door to the suite popped open. Matt walked right in, almost dancing on air, and shut the door behind him. I stood where I was until he saw me; he jumped back.

I attempted a smile. "Hi Matt! How was your night?"

"What happened? Where is John and Randy?" Matt started trying to look around my shoulders at the closed door.

"Don't worry, they are here. I can tell you the story if you like, but I don't want to be a Debbie downer or anything." Matt nodded as he made his way to my side and held his hand under my arm. We sat down on the couch, facing each other, and I spilled my guts. I was surprised at how much better I was getting about telling the story without tears. Now my voice was inflected with anger, and Matt's face read every note. For someone who seemed so calm and fun-loving most of the time, I could have sworn he would have spit nails by the time I was done.

"So the guys…" Matt's face read as if he was adding up the national debt in his head.

"John and Randy stayed with me last night. Apparently Randy is blaming the blonde, and I think they have ideas about never letting me out of their sight. Stephanie said I need to go back there and confirm the situation for legal, so I have to go today. Then stop by the police department to take a statement if nothing else."

Matt looked concerned, but as I returned his stare, his eyes softened and I saw a smirk creep across his face. "Well, I'd hate to see what happened to the guy. Last one Randy hit lost a couple teeth. Who is going with you to make the statement and talk to the guy at the bar?"

"Well, John and Randy have to prep for the show tonight, and then they have a Make-A-Wish event. I think that I'm going to ask Stephanie who is available from production – they should be imposing enough to keep him at bay. I don't think the cops will play escort. I'm pretty sure that John and Randy believe it's their job, though."

Matt was mulling over what I had said. He spoke slowly. "Well, I need to be there for the Make-A-Wish event, but I can go with you if we go now. Would you be okay with that?" He placed his hand over one of the bruised wrists and gave me a mild smile.

"I'd appreciate it. Let me go throw on some clothes and grab my stuff…unless you want to change too."

He shook his head, and I raised up from the couch. I eased back into the room, and by hearing the snoring, I could tell John was still out cold. Randy didn't stir from his spot on the bed. I leaned down, grabbed a short black skirt, silk wrap top, and my black stiletto pumps. When I had come in, neither of the guys looked awake, so I started to change by my suitcases. I pulled Randy's sweatshirt over my head gingerly, and admired myself in the mirror. I could see black and blue spots all over my arms, torso, and legs. I heard someone take a quick breath, and I spun around, covering up my chest, looking eye to eye with Randy, who had woken up and was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"My God, you look, well…"

"I – I didn't think you guys were awake. Can you turn around please?" Instead of complying with my request, he got up and walked over behind me. "Earth to Randy – I need to get dressed."

"Are you hurting? Those look vicious." He traced a finger against my bruised arms and side. "I'll kill him when I see him – if he isn't already in the hospital." Damn, protective looked good on him. The intensity of those narrowed eyes and the quiver in his arms would have melted the only article of clothing I had left completely off my body, but I suddenly remembered he was going to hate me.

"Good thing you're not going then, huh?" I took my clothes and shoes, and headed into the bathroom to change. I could hear footsteps right up against the door as I closed it behind myself.

"What do you mean I'm not going? No one tells me what to do – this is not up for negotiation, little girl."

"Randy, you and John have to do prep before that Make-A-Wish event this afternoon. Then ya'll have a show. You don't have time to go, and I'm going to take care of it. Matt volunteered to help me and go. So," I opened the door, clothing in place, hair pulled back messily and as lightly as possible, and smoothing over my sheer lip gloss as I looked over the top of my glasses at a rather annoyed giant. "You are not able to go, and I'm going to have Matt with me. Excuse me."

He looked bothered and I thought he was going to say something. I walked over and shook John awake softly. "Hey sleepyhead, time to get up. You have appointments today." His eyes popped open and a smile came across his face.

"How you feelin' sugar tits? Looks like you went 3 rounds with Ali."

"I was always more of a Tyson fan." I grinned out of the side of my mouth at him. "Now, you and Randy," I glanced over in his direction, and he was pacing with that serious face on. "You guys have prep before the Make-A-Wish event, then your show. I'll be at the arena for the event, so you should both be fine until then. Car is with the valet, and you have two hours to shower, eat, and be at the arena."

Randy had held his tongue long enough, "She's going down there, and not letting me go. Or you. Neither of us." Randy threw his hands in the air and John looked at me with surprise written everywhere, then concern.

"You're not stupid enough to go there alone. I'm not allowing it. No." John stood up and stomped his foot down.

"Well, mother, I'm not going by myself. Matt is going with me. And we are not discussing this. I will be back with both of my body guards in no time."

They exchanged looks between them, and it was like an eyebrow conversation. I would glance at Randy, then John, and watch both of them furiously signing to the other with the fuzz sitting above their eyes, with the random hand gesture thrown in for good measure. I saw an exasperated look cross Randy's face, then he pouted and walked out of the room. I followed him, and John brought up the rear of the processional. Apparently he can give instructions really fast.

"I mean it, Matt. No where close to him. Beat his ass if he so much as breathes in her general direction." Randy was standing cross-armed in front of Matt like he was the guy taking me out on my first date, and Randy was playing the part of my father who was less than thrilled.

"I got this – like I would let her get hurt. We will be fine." Matt seemed to be holding his own as he started around Randy to grab his bag by the door. This did little to satisfy Randy, who kept barking orders from a list longer than the one Santa Claus carries.

I turned and looked at John. He leaned forward, placing his hand my shoulder, "Welcome to Orton-land. Doesn't trust anyone to do anything." The victory of the joke was short lived, though. "I agree with him on this one; I just don't like this. I'd really like to show this asshole the error of his ways. Hitting women…or whatever, seriously, what the hell." John huffed and wandered into his room on the other side of the suite.

After listening to Randy give directions for another good twenty minutes, I left with Matt. I called Stephanie and told her we would stop by the club. I confirmed that a statement would be given to the police, and that Randy and John were less than enthused with my plan, but they were confirmed to be at the event and prep.

Stephanie laughed. "Drea, Randy is one of those type of people that doesn't trust a lot of people. No one can do things like he can."

"Well, I am going to take care of this. Everything should be ironed out soon. I really, uh – really appreciate your understanding on this."

"I just hope it never happens to you, or any other girl, again. Call me if you need anything."

"Thank you Steph. I'll let you know. Bye."

Matt and I rode in silence until we got to the bar, and before I could stop it, I shuddered. Matt rubbed his hand on my shoulder, and helped me out of the Suburban. The front of the bar still looked iffy, and Matt looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I took a deep breath, exhaled, and entered the bar. I was surprised, but it was open, and as we entered, there was a gruff, smokey voice coming from behind the bar.

"We're closed until noon unless you're not cops. Then tell me what you want or get the fuck out."

"I need to speak to the owner of this establishment who was present last evening, please."

The guy behind the bar turned to look in my direction. It was the guy, and I had to reinforce my knees. A wicked grin crossed over his face and he leaned over the bar.

"Well, well, well, I see you really did like what I offered. Kinky bitch likes getting it hard." I had to grab Matt right as he started to fly forward, growling and gritting his teeth. "This ain't the same asshole who interrupted us last night. We may not be able to get together – you must be a slut."

I took a couple steps toward the bar. "No, it's not the same man. But I have his number, as well as another of his associates on speed dial, and I'm sure it would make their day to kick what would remain of your ass after I deal with you, then Matt here, then the cops."

"Cops? What the hell they got to do with it?" I held my cell phone in my hand and stepped even closer to the bar top that he was leaning over. I had pressed for the voice recorder to start in order to preserve the conversation. Matt was superglued to my side, hands clenched tightly.

"Right. What you did last night could be termed a great many things sir, like attempted rape, assault, battery, attempted kidnapping –" He looked confused, "Should I continue?"

The dirt ball tilted his head, like a dog when they are intently listening. I took that as a yes.

"Well, sir, the point of the matter is that you committed these crimes. I have credible witnesses to the events, and I have already spoken with a detective about filing a preliminary statement with the police department. It is our understanding of their advice that any steps taken by any of my associates while trying to remove me from a hostile and potentially more dangerous situation could be deemed as self-defense. I just wanted to advise you face-to-face that this is happening, and you should probably be prepared for someone to come by and speak to you. In the off chance that it doesn't happen, I can most thoroughly tell you that since my statement will be the one file, you'll be hard pressed to get anyone to believe someone did something wrong when they take a look at what you did to my face. In short, don't think you have either a defense or a counter-claim."

He scratched his head. He had no clue. I wasn't even completely sure of what I was saying to him, but I knew enough legalese to make it sound plausible. I just needed him to waive his counterclaim for any reason.

"So, sugar, you're saying I'm fucked."

"Layman's – yes."

"And I can't convince you to say that nothing happened. I'm not going to do anything about anything – don't need any cops here, no matter who hit who."

I leaned a little closer, just to be a bitch. "Sir, I'd advise you to stop picking on women. The next time it happens, the guys who beat the shit out of you may not stop." I turned to start toward the door, and I felt something snap against my already bruised rear-end. That piece of shit had snapped me with the towel he was wiping the bar with, and when I looked over my shoulder, he was leaning further over the bar, grinning. Matt grunted in my direction, and drew back his arm. I caught him and shook my head, then clicked my recorder off.

Before I could think better of it, I turned back and closed the minimal space between us. My eyes furrowed down, and as he gave me a disturbing, snaggle-toothed smile (Randy might have knocked something loose after all), I reached back with all I had and sent my right hook flying into his face. He hit the other side of the bar, then started to slowly side down amid tumbling and busted bottles. "Don't you ever fucking touch another woman, you dickless piece of rat shit!" I snapped my hand down quickly, and then stomped past an open mouthed Matt.

"Are you kidding me? Where did that come from?" Matt was looking at my throbbing knuckles as our ride took us to the arena for the Make-A-Wish event.

"Dude deserved it. Ugh. I HATE men like that."

"I'm impressed. You should have let me do it though. I'm sure John will give me shit for it." He chuckled to himself as I slid my hand back over to my lap. I patted his shoulder lightly.

"Matt, you did wonderfully. I promise you that I would have never been that confident had you not been there." He smiled.

"So what was with the cell?"

"Oh – I had it recording the call so if he said he wouldn't press charges, we have other evidence. Inadmissable, but something." I tucked the cell into my handbag and rearranged some of my schedule papers.

"You an actual lawyer?"

"Nope."

"You should've been." He grinned. "You had me fooled, and I have a degree."


	17. Signs of Intelligent Life

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think. Big shout-outs to Trebug, ., Bingobaby, agnesita1385, and Ley Elizabeth for the reviews and constructive help – I appreciate it greatly!**

**CHAPTER 17**

I walked all around the site, and then came down beside the ramp entrance to find a big group of the superstars in and around the ring with kids. Matt came running down past me as I walked, only he was getting excited cheers from the kids. I put in my earpiece and tucked my walkie into the top of my skirt. I picked a seat a few rows shy of the group, trying to keep close enough to see everyone, and not scare any of the kids with my Halloween face. I heard excited yells and screams, so I turned my attention to the ramp again. Randy appeared, holding a young boy's hand, next to John, who had 3 different kids on him at once, treating him like a jungle gym. Everyone made their way down to the ring, and the kids eyes just lit right up. It warmed my heart, as it would any human.

The kids got a tour of the locker rooms, they played in the ring, got photos and autographs, ate a snack with the talent, and were then whisked to their front row seats for the show. After watching these guys entertain kids all afternoon, I felt worn out enough like I needed a nap. Randy and John were sharing a locker room, and Matt was at catering. I decided the smart thing was to go see the wardens. I knocked on the door, and barely opened it to confirm that I could come in. No one was home, so I just went in and shut the door. Time to myself – no matter how limited – was a precious commodity.

I had my laptop out typing a lengthy email to Lane when the door swung open wide, with Randy stomping in. I jumped and looked up at him, surprised, and his eyebrows were narrowed. He sat down on the other end of the couch I had taken up residence on, resting his head in his hands. Randy drew a long breath.

"You decked him. You held Matt back from doing what I told him to do, got close, and then when he snapped you with a towel, you punched him hard enough to send him flying into the back of the bar." I saw his face peeking out sideways, and as he spoke, his smile grew larger. It's a good thing I saw this now because I was more afraid I was going to get the business end of his displeasure

"Yes?" I started to look around nervously. Was this a trick? I had counted on Randy being pissed, not …amused. I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, still awaiting his full on reaction. Please, please, please don't let this be the mad professor smile.

Before I could really fully react, I had been pulled into a bear hug with a giant man whose entire body was heaving from laughter. I would have moved, but I knew I wasn't going to get anywhere away from him, and I was way too comfortable in his embrace. I tried to negotiate my release, but I don't think he heard half of what I said because my mouth was smushed into his chest, and my sore spots were throbbing. Finally, I managed enough breath to howl, "Randy? Can you let me go please? This kind of hurts."

"Oh. OH! I'm sorry." He leaned back a bit and released his vise-like grip. I stayed with my head buried in his chest.

"Thanks." I finally gave up and realized that I'd have to move. "So you are…happy? 'Cause if you're mad, I'm not sure how that is going to work out." I think my cockiness had amused him slightly. I saw the light flicker off his eyes. Those deep, clear blue pools. The longer I was around him, the more I entertained bad thoughts about him, his eyes, and other choice parts.

"No, quite the opposite. I'm proud of you." His arm was resting around my shoulders, and he pulled me to him, only much softer this time. I laid my head on his chest, and released the breath I had been holding for a moment.

About that time, John busted through the door, pissed at the world. He stopped when he saw my head resting on Randy, with his arm around my shoulders. Both Randy and I returned his stare, but made no moves to part.

"John, what's wrong?" I wondered what had him so down. I figured he had been down either talking to some of the Divas, or was at catering. I deduced that carrot sticks couldn't make him this mad.

"Nothing." His jaw was so tightly clenched that he barely uttered a word. I didn't believe him, and neither did Randy. I leaned back, sitting back on my side of the couch, placing my laptop over on the arm. Randy stood up quickly and crossed his arms in front of John. After a few minutes of watching them pace back and forth, I heard a voice come across in my ear piece.

"I need a location on Cena. Anyone?" Uh oh.

I pulled the wire up near my chin. "This is Drea. I got your location, what's going on?" I kept watching John pace, with Randy trying to eye him down.

"Drea. We need you to bring him back down the office – Vince is still meeting with creative, and needs John to come back."

"Come back? He left? He walked out on Vince?" With that one, Randy's expression changed to puzzled, and my mouth was hanging wide open.

"No details right now – just get him back down here asap."

"I'll try." I walked over to stand next to John. "Mr. Cena, is there something you need to tell me, in a professional way, as well as your friend?"

John threw up his arms and sighed. He waited a moment, and I unconsciously started tapping my foot awaiting his response. Randy sidled up next to me, and placed his foot down on my tappy one. Ouch. John realized he wasn't going to get out of it, so he exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. "They want me to replay this whole fucked up situation. Creative has it in their heads that I need a love interest storyline – they are playing off the divorce."

Randy's foot slid from mine, and I brought my right hand over my puffy lips. They couldn't possibly think this was a good idea. John was teetering on a fragile line of holding it together, and I was kind of hoping that some of our time together might do him good. If they made him wallow in even a fake version of his own personal hell, he might go off the deep end, and that was a scary thought.

"John, we will just talk to them. I'm sure if we can make an argument, they will come to their senses. But we do have to go back."

Randy looked from John's face, which was pained and exhausted, to mine, which was pleading for him to just agree with me. "Dude, maybe she has a point. She did manage to keep us out of trouble for the strip club. And…she did hit the bar guy, so Vince really shouldn't scare her." He grinned as his last thought came out of his mouth.

John smirked and looked at me, and I returned his glance with one more hopeful than his own. "C'mon, we'll try to fix this." I took one of his massive hands in my own, and started toward the door.

He pointed to Randy. "You're selling me out, and I know it. Good thing that Tyson here is cute, or I would be royally pissed." I smirked at him and started pulling him through the door.

I knocked softly on the door labeled as Vince's office. I heard a mélange of voices inside, and was told to enter. As I walked through the door, I kept a hold of John's hand. He shut the door behind us. Vince was sitting on the corner of his make-shift desk, with a couple of staff sitting in chairs around the room. These must be the creative people; they didn't look super creative. It looked like the adult swim intern cast had now found gainful employment. The booming volume of Vince's voice made me jump back to my senses.

"Jesus, John! You can't just walk out on our meetings. And, for that matter…" He trailed off. I know he had seen my hand in John's, and now, I was sure that he was scanning my face very closely. "You are who, now? And just what happened here?" Shit. I plastered a big smile on my face (ouch) and stuck out my hand, dropping John's grip from my other hand.

"My name is Drea Macklin, sir. I am one of the new assistants to your talented guys, like John here. Please excuse my present condition – there was an unfortunate incident that happened last evening. I can assure you all loose ends are tied up, and every bit of the talent is a disinterested party." Vince took my offered hand and shook it quickly.

"Well, Ms. Macklin, pleasure to meet a new staff member. Thank you for locating our absconder here, but I think that will be all." He made to stand up, but before he could, I held my hand out with a finger up.

"Sir, if I may be so bold as to interrupt you…" He looked a bit surprised, and so did John. I figured it best to push forward. "Mr. McMahon, I understand that you are always on the very cutting edge of compelling dramatic writing for this company, and I have to applaud your efforts. Obviously, you're doing very well." Vince smiled quite smugly, and I saw my opportunity. "But I was hoping that I might be able to offer you a slight outsider's opinion on this proposed idea for Mr. Cena here." I patted John's arm, and Vince rubbed his chin slowly.

"Go on, Ms. Macklin."

I took a long breath and looked into John's eyes, which were a mixture of relief, pleading, and worry. "Vince, may I call you Vince?" He nodded, and I grew bolder. "Vince, I know your company appeals mainly to a male persuasion, and I'm sure as that is a well established fact, your ever sharp creative team would know that most men are not fans of discussing either overtly emotional situations or those that would require seeing another fellow member of the man club in pain. I have to believe that we are all very well aware of how painful this chapter was for John, and being made to relive it might backfire. Your ratings and profits dropped when it took place, as well as the negative exit polls given by the female demographic that follows the show as well – they felt like making it public knowledge on the show was ill-timed. Perhaps instead of focusing on a negative for John, you could turn to a positive?"

I think I had managed to confuse almost every person in the room, except Vince. He looked eager to hear what I was going to roll out with next. This is the part of this plan where I wished that I had thought far enough in advance.

"Vince, it's a numbers game. Who is going to pay to see a miserable athlete, or buy the sad guy's merchandise? You could maybe find a story that makes him happy, and he's guaranteed to put more butts in the seats."

He was mulling this over, and the creative people were tossing daggers my way. I had called them out in their own meeting, and now I looked like the big tough guy defending someone who couldn't do it for themselves.

"Ms. Macklin, I appreciate your analysis of the market, and I'd have to agree with you. A happy John Cena is better to me than one that is, well, not. You all need to confer with John, and come up with a plan for a new story line – and make it a happy one. Just as long as it tanks this Ted and Maryse thing, I can't take it anymore." Each of the laptop monkeys nodded happily at Vince, then gave me killer looks as they exited. "Thank you John, Ms. Macklin. That will be all." We were waived out of the office, and I heard John release the breath he had been holding for so long.

John said nothing on the way back to the locker room, but grabbed my fingers and kept my hand in his. He opened the door, and Randy was laying down on the couch, one leg off the side and one thrown up over the top. "Glad to see everyone's back in one piece."

"Nice to know you were worried, Orton. But it worked." Instantly, I was picked up and spun around.

"Ow, ow, ow, OW! Can I go back to the ground please – that hurts." John put me back down with a sharp, sorry look in his eyes. I waived it off and readjusted my top and ribs. Randy leaned up on his elbows, and looked at me.

"What do you mean it worked?"

"Well," John started, "she just walked in and started talking to Vince. Schmoozed him. Called him sir, even. Then threw numbers at him, and said it might be better for him financially if I was happy as opposed to moping. He agreed." I wasn't completely sold on whether or not they were making fun of me, or being genuinely surprised.

"So what's her plan, then?" Uh, ehem, I am presently in the room.

"He has creative scrapping the divorce replay, and I'm supposed to meet with them for some ideas – happy ones. It worked." John smiled, all the way from one ear to the other. I felt happy for him. Randy got up off the couch, and gave his friend a pat on the back. "I'm really hungry all of a sudden. I need to go scrounge up something from catering. Anyone want anything?" He pointed to Randy then to me. We both nodded no, and John practically skipped out of the room.

I walked over to where my laptop was sitting, and opened it back up. As it took a moment to boot up, the screen was dark and reflective. I saw Randy bending over to grab his boots and trunks from bag, and I instantly spaced out light years away. My fantasy world was spinning with images of a good looking guy with blue eyes…but there were two who shared that last detail, and little did they know what it did to my intelligence. Me get stupider over boys? That's unpossible.

When I came out of my trance, Randy had walked into the shower and shut the door. I heard a stifled giggle on the other side, but then realized what it was about when the screen came to life. There was a porn site flashing all over it, with pictures of teachers, dressed similar to me apparently, who were, uhm, in compromising positions. I quickly exited out of the window, and my word processor popped up.

_Amazing what a pair of good breasts and those eyes can do, isn't it? I found your website – stunning hair change, I must say – and think that you are holding out on us. If your name turns out to be Devon, I'm expecting more the next time I take care of you._

Ugh – I bet I would hate him if he wasn't so effing hot. And steamy. And back out of the shower now in nothing but a towel. I leaned my head down and covered my face with my hand. Must not daydream, must not daydream. The door swung open quickly and he emerged.

"You found my surprise, and the note - Devon?" Randy laughed as he pulled his trunks up under the towel before shedding it off.

I tried to act angry, but I was pretty sure that he would see through the farce. "Yes, Mr. Orton, and may I remind you that what you did could constitute an invasion of my personal privacy and property. I know you have all had that lecture about sexual harassment."

"Ever the smartass." He sat down next to me, setting his boots down on the floor next to the couch. "You up for a night in this evening? I'm pretty sure that once John gets into moods this good, he usually likes to end up with some female company. Maybe we could grab a bite and do a movie or something." I was blushing, and he was turning away from me, trailing off. Did I just get propositioned by Randy?

"What's with all the planning? If I didn't know better, I'd say you're out for something not of the professional relationship nature." His eyes twinkled as he returned my stare. This isn't good.

"Well, you never answered my question. And even handlers have to eat." He stood back up and retrieved a bottle of baby oil from his bag, and started liberally applying it to his chest, arms, and torso. I liked it – like every other red-blooded American woman would.


	18. Saving Grace

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think. Big shout-outs to Trebug, ., Bingobaby, agnesita1385, and Ley Elizabeth for the reviews and constructive help – I appreciate it greatly!**

**CHAPTER 18**

"Grab your stuff and walk with me to the gorilla. You know, do the manager thing." I picked up the pass and re-attached my walkie to the top of my skirt. Randy finished tying up his boots and walked up behind me. "Let's go." He walked over and opened up the locker room door for me, to which I responded with a kind smile and letting my hand graze over his as I passed. He barely nodded, and the closer we got the holding area, the more I watched him go into Orton mode.

It's kind of a scary process - Randy glared off into space with the look of death in his eyes. Where they would normally sparkle and just ooze fun, it was now replaced with pure anger. It was very similar to the look that came across his face the night before. I hated this look, but I had the feeling that I was really more safe now than ever – people were parting to give way so Randy could make it through the hallway.

I tucked myself away as a large redheaded man walked right past Randy on his way out to the ring. "You ready Orton? I can't wait to finally get my hands on you when you're not under the boss man's protection, so you may want to kiss your girlfriend good bye. This open one is going to hurt ya, fella."

I looked between the ginger monster, who was really making me more nervous than I wanted to let on – how normal is it for anyone to have that color of hair? – and back to Randy, who was seething for some reason. He really shouldn't feel threatened – his hair was much better, and more of a natural color. The ginger guy ran out when his song came across the system. I sidled up to Randy.

"I know you're prepping, but I want you to be careful. That guy could sit on you, then try to dye your hair that God-awful red." I tried a weak grin, and Randy simply nodded with a quick glance that showed a hint of the sparkle back. A short man walked up quickly and handed Randy a hulking belt; it read Champion in studded letters, and looked like it must weigh a ton. As a slower song came across the system, Randy slowly walked through the curtain. What the hell was the red guy meaning by "open", and why did I get called his girlfriend.

I was wandering around the back, hearing the crowd ebb and flow with the match, and finally found a monitor to watch. Randy seemed to be in control, which was good, but it's all scripted, so I wasn't for sure why I was so concerned. As I stood, eyes glued to the screen, I knew someone had come up behind me. I looked over my shoulder and saw a very giddy John, arms neatly folded across his red-clad chest.

"You that interested?" He lifted an eyebrow at me, and I'm sure I was blushing.

"No, well, not really. I'm trying to figure out what the red guy-"

"You mean Stephen, er, Sheamus."

"Sure, whatever; I'm trying to figure out why the other guy said something to Randy about not being under the boss man, and this is open and going to hurt." John's eyebrows both climbed to the top of his face before he spoke.

"Open? It's an open match? Fuck. I told him to stop that shit…"

"What does that even mean, John? Wait, is this bad? Is Randy in trouble?" I didn't want to show that I cared as much as I did. John grabbed my hand and drug me down the hall. We went through a curtain, down some stairs, and we tucked ourselves away next to the ramp out on the concrete. John and I stayed close enough for him to stay hidden in the curtain leading out to the exposed area by the fans. "Seriously, what the hell is going on here?" I put both of my hands to my hips, and gave John the look that indicated he couldn't get out of this one.

"Lately Stephen has been upset with management due to them writing him out of the title shots, and since Randy has it, I think he's been eyeing Randy for a special match or two before the pay-per-view. If I was a gambling man, which I am, I'd say he is hoping that Randy gets injured, and he gets his shot back – despite what Vince and creative say. Vince has been pushing him to give Stephen an ass kicking – it's up to Randy's ability purely."

"Then this is bad? Randy will get hurt?"

"Drea, it's Randy. You put him in a cage with a bear, and I'd feel sorry for the bear. But yeah, it's possible he could get hurt. If the match is open, then there is no scripted ending. It's all about who locks who up."

About the time that John finished his thought, I heard a loud outburst from the fans. I looked through the cloth, trying to find out who was down, and I saw a fiery tuft of hair standing up, and arms raised in posturing. Fuck…I can't have one of my superstars down before I ever hit the six month mark. Before I could rationally think and stop myself, I ran out of the covered hiding spot I shared with John, and out next to the fans. I walked over closer to the ramp, edging closer to the ring. Of course I didn't draw attention, I'm only Drea Macklin – no one of consequence, despite the grotesque appearance of my face.

Randy was on the ground, grasping the back of his head. I kept walking until I was right against the barricade near the ring, my arms clutching each other across my chest. I know I had my worried face on, but it was intense to really see that close. I knew John was fine, Matt had done okay, but now my other charge was lying in the middle of the floor, with someone who didn't like him because creative made a decision, and he had all the opportunity in the world to hurt him.

"Randy, are you okay?" I first said it softly, hoping he could read my mind. I repeated it louder, and I saw Randy lean his head up and he locked eyes with me. I saw the sparkle flash for a brief moment before they went dark and blank. The problem with my second attempt was that the pale giant decided it was a good idea to roll out of the ring, and start over to me. The fans were screaming and going nuts as the superstar came closer, but I just sensed impending danger. I backed completely against the barricade watching Randy's eyes go dark again. This may have been one of my more stupid ideas.

"You yellin fer yer man, eh? I'm gonna beat him, then I may be kind enough to take care of you, sweetheart."

I suddenly felt every eye in the place on me. I decided it better to speak up. Before I knew better, my shoulders squared out, and I started pointing my finger at the pale behemoth, "He's not my man, buddy. I'm his manager; I was afraid you might try to dye his hair that ridiculous shade of red."

"Your fella better stay down, then we can talk about making you my new manager." The giant leaned down, placing his arms on either side of me against the barricade as he whispered, "Then maybe we can see how you like a real man around." The crowd exploded, and I couldn't think it had to do with this little conversation. I heard the lady who was killing my eardrum on the right scream for Randy, and about the time I glanced around the giant, he turned back to the ring. Randy was behind him with that killer look, threw a left cross, and then grabbed Stephen by the head, bringing him down to the ground against Randy's shoulder. I heard the same woman behind me scream RKO; now I see why it would have been so bad had he gotten his hands on Maryse.

Randy's head was spinning around, with him screaming at the top of his lungs. He leaned over the red head and yelled as the bell sounded – counting them both out of the match.

"If you so much as touch one hair on her head, I will make sure you are out of this company faster than you can take a shot. Keep your thoughts, opinions, and hands to yourself." The ref came and handed Randy the huge belt, and Randy turned to me. "Drea, get backstage right now. NOW!" He pointed his fingers right past my nose, and I held up my hands. I scurried back to the entrance that still held John, who took my arm and led me back to the locker room.

"Drea, I think you're in trouble. I'll try to head Randy off." He disappeared out the door, and I started packing things up. I knew I was going to be fired instantly. I shook out my hair, letting it unfurl down my back in waves. I pulled out my reading glasses and slipped them back on as I packed up my things. I need to read the want ads on the plane, might as well be ready for the task. I heard the yelling coming down the hall and concentrating near the door to the locker room.

_"Randy, she was just worried. Nothing bad happened, and no one noticed."_

_Randy growled, "She could have been leveled. That asshole is out of control, and she was dumb enough to put herself in his path. She has no sense."_

_John chuckled.__ "Randy – she cares about you, idiot. She ran out to stay and watch you get your ass handed to you. She didn't know what open meant, and she didn't know why you would go out and do it. Just shut up and be flattered."_ Randy's teeth were still clenched tight when he flung the door to the locker room open. I was standing there with my purse and bag over my right shoulder, and I pushed by both of them when the door flung open.

"Drea?" John looked confused.

"Drea," Randy reached out, grabbing my wrist like the man had last night. I spun around and yanked my arm from his hand. Both looked surprised, and Randy's harsh look lightened. "Drea.."

"DON'T you ever talk to me that way again. I came down there because you did something completely stupid and reckless. I'm so fucking glad that you don't care what happens to you, but I'm the one who will answer for you getting yourself hurt, you dumb ass! I'm not going to stick around here, doing my job, chasing you down, and trying to help if you're just going to be a complete and total moron. Excuse me." I started to head down the hallway, and I heard no steps behind me for a moment. So I was going to leave here unabated, great. Good thing I knew now and could stop myself from caring, which would be totally irresponsible.

I was just about to start arguing with myself out loud when arms picked me up and swung me around. I saw John's smiling face as he picked me back up around my waist, and Randy came behind him and picked up my ankles.

"Leave me alone! Right now! Put me down!" I tried to struggle against both of them, but the grips were tighter than clamps around my body, and when I squirmed, it hurt in every sore spot I had. They both looked up and down the hallway before tucking me back into their locker room. "God damn it, put me down! Both of you!"

They gently set my feet down first, then John let go of the rest of me. He backed against the doorway out, so I was going to be screwed there. Randy was pacing back and forth in front of him, which seemed to amuse John. He had thrown that massive belt over the arm of the couch, which caught my eye as I started looking for alternative exits. Hearing Randy's voice so soft surprised me.

"I'm sorry." What the fuck?

"Excuse me?" I thought for a moment that I was hallucinating. Randy never seemed like the type of guy who either would apologize or like doing it.

He rubbed his chin, and I heard John stifle a laugh behind him. "I said I was sorry."

"Why are you sorry, Randy? Are you sorry that you screamed at me in front of every person out there, or because it was broadcast nationwide? Are you sorry because you scared the living shit out of me – especially considering what happened last night? Or are you sorry that you did something stupid, that would have had consequences that went further than just your dumb ass getting yourself hurt? Maybe it was because you two," I gestured to John, too, who looked shocked to be involved in this one, "you both stand out there and talk about me like I'm deaf, dumb, and blind, and I don't hear you having a discussion about how I have no sense."

Mack trucks could have driven out of both of their mouths. They had another of the eyebrow conversations with each other again, and it was super annoying to be this ticked off and here are two muscle-bound men talking in nothing but eyebrow movements.

"Would one of you two explain to me why you bring me back here, give a two word apology, then spend the next 5 minutes in silence? Really!"

Randy exhaled loudly. "I said I was sorry. I meant it. For all of it. I should have never yelled at you like that, but you have to understand how silly it was to do that…"

"So now I've gone from having no sense to being silly."

"That's not what I meant-"

"Well, that's what you said. If you didn't mean it, maybe it never should have left your lips." I humpfed and folded my arms under my boobs, which seemed to give me a quick cleavage boost. Randy seemed to almost be speechless, and he plopped down in a chair in the corner.

"Jesus, Drea, I said I was sorry. I didn't mean that you were silly in a bad way. What the hell do you want?"

"Well I would suggest that you recognize that my being out there was out of genuine concern for your well being. Whether or not you realize it, it will fall to me when you get hurt, and someone says, hey, why can't Randy work right now. Guess what, I'm gonna have to answer that question – and if it was for a dumb reason like letting that pale asshole have a match where he could seriously hurt you – then I have nothing to say to defend either you or myself."

I stared straight at him, arms still crossed. Randy finally lifted his head from his hands and met my gaze. The look on his face was not the usual bravado, and his eyes didn't twinkle. They looked heavy, and sad. I've never been one to keep up a mad face when I know my words find their target. I huffed, walked over to him, and squatted down to be more eye-to-eye with his present level.

"I just hope you understand what my problem is with this. I don't want you to get hurt, for several reasons. And I don't think it was necessary to yell like that down there. I'm sorry if you thought I did something I shouldn't have, but you have to take a second and realize why I did it."

"To save your ass."

I was a little shocked. "What?"

"You came to the ring, and you did it to save your ass." He was smirking. That little shit.

"I came down there to mainly save yours." I stood up and put both my hands on my hip. John started snickering, then swung the door open, leaving me and Randy alone. Randy stood up and opened up his arms wide, with that smirk written all over his face. I didn't move. Before I knew it, he had closed the distance between us, and I was being smashed against his chest, baby oil, sweat and all rubbing all over my clothes and face.

"Randy. Please let me go. I'm getting all messy." He leaned back and laughed.

"So you don't hate me anymore? I mean, you tried, but no one can hate anyone this amazing, right?" Randy smirked and threw his arms in the air and open wide, making every single one of his chest, arm, and ab cuts pop out. Oh. My. God. I should have slapped him, but instead I couldn't hold in the peals of laughter.


	19. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think. Big shout-outs to Trebug, ., Bingobaby, agnesita1385, and Ley Elizabeth for the reviews and constructive help – I appreciate it greatly!**

**CHAPTER 19**

John was so freaking giddy on the way home, he barely sat still. When we got to the hotel, he lit himself up rushing about the room, giggling and throwing on clothes.

"I'll be back. Late. Have fun guys, and Drea"

I looked up at John from my chair, holding my laptop – trying to finish the same email to Lane I started earlier, but never completed.

"Please don't beat up Randy." He laughed as he scampered through the door, right as the pillow Randy threw hit the door.

I was missing a man – there was no Matt. "Randy, where is Matt?" He shrugged. I took out my cell and scrolled down – please tell me that I got his number while I was hammered. Luck! I had it stored under WWE Matt – cute

_Hey Matt, where you is? Coming home tonight?_

A few seconds later, my phone jingled. _Drea, hope you're better girlie. My friend came to the taping, and I'm out with her again. Score! I'll see you when the morning comes around…if I sleep! _

_Eew. But have fun and remember to cover up. ;)_

I clicked the screen lock on my cell and laid it down on the coffee table. "Well, it's you and I again. Matt is getting lucky."

Randy muttered under his breath, "Lucky bastard." I raised an eyebrow at him, and shook my head. Once a man, always a man.

"Is there a pool in this joint?" I hit send on my email, and shut my laptop down. I climbed out of the chair, and headed into my room. I hoped I had packed what I was looking for.

Randy appeared in the doorway to my room, scratching his arm. "Yeah, it's down by the gym. Why?"

I held up the top to my bikini, and tossed it onto my bed. I pulled the bottoms out shortly after, and stood up. "You in?" He smiled and turned; I tried to change as quickly as possible. I walked back into the living area to find him leaning against a wall; black board shorts, tight t-shirt straining against his arms and shoulders, holding a towel in one hand. He looks good in black. Damn.

I walked past him in my short little blue cover-up dress, towel and room key in hand. He fell in line right behind me. Neither of us spoke on the ride down to the gym's level, and it stayed silent as we walked inside the pool's room. He shed his shirt, revealing his muscles as he walked down the steps into the shallow end of the pool. The water sat around his waist, and I had to shake my head away from staring.

I peeled the cover-up over my head, and adjusted my suit. I loved this suit – it was a string bikini, black and purple sparkles, with skulls and crossbones outlined in rhinestones. The bottoms could have been maybe a size bigger, but I slid the strings holding it together a little lower on my hips, wincing as it grazed a bruise. I glanced over at Randy, who wasn't even trying to hide that he was watching every little move I made. I threw my hands up and dove into the deep end of the pool.

"Holy Shit! It's freezing!" My teeth started chattering.

"Yeah, it feels good though. And it will help keep your sore spots moving." I paddled over to a place where my feet would touch and walked a little closer to Randy. Thanks to the receding water level, and the girls' natural buoyancy, my suit top was very much in view, as was my amazing cleavage (thank you, bikini top).

"So what's the deal with the suit, Drea?" Randy was coming over to me, nodding to my top.

"Checking things out, huh?" I pulled a little on one of the straps, rearranging the contents.

"Hard to miss them. But what's the deal with the top; didn't know most girls were into skulls unless they were all black eyeliner and goth bands." I smirked at him.

"Well, Mr. Orton, if you must know,"

"I must. Tell me."

I leaned back slightly and floated back towards the steps. "I like them. It's a sorority symbol."

"You are in a group of girls who like skulls." His eyes sparkled again, and he had that cocky smirk on his face. "So do you live in a darkened basement, and wish Marilyn Manson would marry you in a blood red dress?"

I had reached the steps and rested on one that kept the water level about mid-chest. I put my elbows on my knees, and propped my head up with my hands. "No, I don't. Skulls represent death – and we are faithful beyond it." He snorted.

"I'm sorry, did you just tell me girls are faithful?" There was just a huge hint of bitterness in his voice. I figured this had to be a story.

"I am."

"Excuse me if I keep my doubts; you're female." Randy gave me another smirk, and starting paddling back to the deeper water. I felt drawn to him, so I moved off my step and walked until I could barely touch.

"You realize I can tell when something is going on, right? Why are you so hard on women?" I smiled as sweetly as possible. This has to melt the ice heart. I looked and met his stare; it was harsh and colder than I'd remember seeing; not the same warmth I had seen from him not even five minutes ago. His neck and jaw tensed up, and he came closer to me. When he was about a foot from me, he stopped. His eyes were darting back and forth quickly, but I didn't shrink back from him this time. I searched hard, hoping to find what triggered the mood change. "Who was it?"

He almost growled at me again, "What are you talking about? Who was what?"

"Who was she – the one who broke your heart." I whispered the tail end of the statement. His demeanor went from bitter and borderline angry to tired instantly. Randy wiped his face with his hand, taking the angriness with him. He swum around me, and walked up the steps and out of the pool. I watched as he walked over to the hot tub, and eased down into the water, hitting the switch for the jets to start up. I followed over, and eased into the seat next to him.

"You really don't have to say anything. I'm sorry. It's really none of my business – "

"Sam. Name is Sam; she's a bitch, and I still hate her for it." He exhaled loudly and leaned his head back on the edge.

The great Randy Orton was still actively nursing a broken heart. He told me all about it – the beautiful story of boy meets girl, boy dates girl; brought her with him, took care of her every need (this lady made off like a thief in the night), and thought he had found the life he wanted. He comes home and turns out she has been having a great time in his absence, on his dime, in his house he bought for them. Came home early from a trip, right after he had hurt himself, and found the perfect girl sleeping in his bed – with someone else. She had never really explained to her 'ex' that they had split up, and just lived the double life with Randy when she had to. He took to the road with more ferocity, and never looked back.

That last bit showed. His antics earlier reinforced his position – I live for me, and no one else matters. He protected a hand full of friends, and that is about it. He was obviously still sorting out his feelings for her.

"Well, can I maybe make you deal?" I turned to face him more than just sit next to him. He rolled his head to look at me instead of the ceiling.

"What's that? What deal do I need from you?"

"You agree that I have to know something about what is going on about your matches, and you maybe just run your ideas by me once in a while, and I promise to try and change your view on girls." I smirked. Of course I would be totally helping myself out in this whole matter – if he was happy, it was easier to do my job, and I stood a better shot at getting a little closer. Wait, why did that matter?

"You can try. But I can at least take you into account…a little. Nothing too stupid." He smiled weakly, but it was a genuine smile – warm, calm, and friendly. I think it did him good to get the troubles out of his mouth and off his mind. "Besides that, if you get fired, I'll have to step back into the revolving door of assistants, and I'm entirely too worn out to deal with the next one if they are more trouble than you are." He took my arm and brought me against him. I was sitting in a hot tub, by myself, with a guy who was hot enough to make someone smack their mother. I tucked in under his arm, and rested my head against his chest. My eyes closed slowly, and I just reveled in the situation. He was gorgeous, built, and those eyes could hold my attention for hours. And we were all alone.

The next thing I realized, Randy was starting to stir and speak softly. "Drea, c'mon. It's late, babe, and you need rest." Randy made to stand up, getting out of the hot tub. I had fallen asleep against him. Rubbing my eyes, I stood up slowly. He handed me my towel and cover-up, and a hand to help me out of the spa. I wrapped my towel around my body tightly; he pulled me back against him, his towel already wrapped low around his hips. "We can go upstairs and watch tv or something." I gave a sleepy nod.

The room was quiet when we came in, and there was no sign of either John or Matt. The clock read that it was after midnight. I stumbled into my bathroom and turned on the shower. I quickly soaped up, washed my hair, and had a long argument with myself about what I thought I was doing as the water revived me. Why did I care about this whole situation – he was work. Strictly work. I was really crossing a line, and I wasn't sure what the consequences would be if I kept on this path. I stepped out and stared at myself in the mirror. _Drea, you would never usually mess with your income, and that is smart of you. But this is a man you've gotten unfettered access to for long enough to let your heart overrule your intelligence_ – mere months. I brushed through my hair, running the hair dryer over it just long enough to get most the dampness out. I came out in my towel, and saw the lights flickering from the TV in the common room, and I figured that Randy had laid down on the couch already. I pulled on a blue tank top and a pair of boy shorts, and wandered out behind the couch. I had been right, Randy was sprawled out on the sofa, one leg thrown over the top; he was laying there with only a pair of basketball shorts on, no shirt. He had his eyes closed slightly, and I leaned over to put my hand on his shoulder.

"Randy," I was speaking barely above a whisper, nudging his shoulder. "Randy, you should really just go lay down. You're exhausted." Those eyes opened, and were glinting. I saw him move his gaze around my body that was leaning over the sofa. The eyes went darker.

Before I knew anything, Randy had turned the television off and was off the couch. I could barely see anything in the sudden darkness, but I felt him directly behind me. His hand was running down my back slowly; enough to give me chills, then goosebumps. It came to rest on the small of my back, and his other hand grasped my side. It wasn't a firm hold, but it was enough to know I wasn't going anywhere. I turned around, putting my back against the sofa, with his hand still resting on my back. This didn't seem to be going anywhere that would be great for my job security.

I could hear Randy's heavy, ragged breathing in the deafening silence of the suite. Both his hands roamed down my hips, and before I could have ever run away, they lifted me up and held me to him, legs on either side of his torso. I was being carried back to my bedroom, in the pitch black, by a barely clothed superstar. I grabbed onto his biceps for my own balance, and he flexed hard. I exhaled sharply as he did, and I could feel the smugness come back to his demeanor. Entering my room, he kicked the door closed with one foot while he walked us over to my bed. I was gently placed down on the bed, and Randy climbed in over me. My mind was screaming for me to stop this; to be smart. The rest of me was busy trying to duct tape my mind's mouth shut.

I traced my hands over his arms; I liked this. His arms were twitching under my touch. "Randy, what are-"

"Shh, just stop thinking for two seconds."

"I would, but I can't. I mean, what happ-" I couldn't even finish my thoughts. His lips were so close to mine I could feel the heat of his breath. He held there, and I finally took some of his advice – I leaned up and brushed my mouth against his. It was like I was kissing an electrical outlet – a weird, warm energy coursed through my body. I felt my stomach flip. My stomach hadn't flipped since my first official kiss, and I had been looking for something that might repeat that feeling ever since.

There was no space between us; and things did not slow down, just the opposite. My lips were pressed to his; I detected the urgency in his kiss. My arms linked around his neck and shoulders, keeping him pressed down against me. His hands roamed over my body; a soft moan escaped my mouth. Despite the bruises he encountered, his touch was so delicate, there was no pain. I could feel him smile against my kiss. His lips moved to my neck, then chin, then right below my earlobe. He flicked his tongue lightly against my ear, and I could barely contain my excitement.

"This is better than sleeping, right?" His voice was like velvet; deep and rich, with just a hint of glee and spades of lust. I nodded, he was right. My hands were now running along his shoulders and arms, clutching at him as though he was my life preserver at sea.

There was no stopping the momentum of this. Neither he nor I wanted to put a halt to it, and consequences were to be damned. My tank top was stripped, then my shorts; his were pulled down not too long after, and we had reached the point of no return. He and I stayed against each other, hands all askew and legs wound around each other. Time had frozen, my brain was no longer in charge, and I immersed myself in the opportunity for as long as it lasted.

"Wow." I had been reduced to one word. I could barely breathe, and my chest was heaving.

"I know. Wow." He had returned the favor to me. He slid back down, then stood up. As the lights flipped on in the bathroom, I leaned up and enjoyed the view of his backside. It dawned on me - I slept with my boss effectively. This may not be good. He came back out a minute later, and scooted me to one side of the bed before laying down on his back, arms folded above his head. I rolled over, laying my head on his chest, and wrapping the rest of my body around his. I felt his arm close around my shoulders, holding me tight against him.

"Good, huh?" He was smirking. As I nodded. "You still couldn't quit thinking could you? I can hear the gears going now, and you're already five miles down the road and worried." I bit down on my lip and looked at the wall – I must have had a book written on my face. He smiled a little wider, "I think everything is okay. But if it was only just good, there may be a problem."

"I think it's more your problem than mine. I know your toes were curling." I was not about to let him get the better of this conversation.

He turned over on top of me, pressing his lips down against mine. "Guess I should get to work then…" I giggled as we started down the rabbit hole again.


	20. So Far

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think. Big shout-outs to Trebug, ., Bingobaby, agnesita1385, and Ley Elizabeth for the reviews and constructive help – I appreciate it greatly!**

**CHAPTER 20**

The next morning came entirely too early. I was so comfortable nestled into Randy. I felt him kiss my forehead as he started to slip out of the bed. My eyes opened, and I met his gaze.

"Hey, where are you going?" I smiled softly as I grabbed onto the pillows around me. He smiled back, then leaned back in and kissed my cheek.

"I have to hit the gym before we go. Do you think you can call and confirm our flight to Dallas, and make sure we get a big room." I nodded and watched him slip on his shorts as he stood up.

"Randy…"

"What babe?" He didn't look bothered, like I had expected. While it was a welcome change, it was also laughing in the face of everything I knew about him.

"Do you think we made a mistake?"

He sat back down on the edge of the bed, and leaned himself back over me, his head resting on my chest; those eyes flickering and cheerful. "I'm fine with it if you are."

I tried to contain my inner glee, shrugging my shoulders and looking at my nails – which were in dire need of a manicure. He grinned back to me, and got back up. "I'll be back in a while. We'll be heading out to Dallas this morning, and we have a day all to ourselves. It should be a good time for us to spend some time together." I watched him walk out of my room, and heard him rustle around in his room for a moment before the door to the suite shut. I popped out of bed, wrapped in my sheet, and found my phone next to my purse. I clicked the screen and brought up a text to Lane.

_Hey bitch! OMG news when you get up. SO GET UP! 3 you_

My phone jingled a couple seconds later. _What happened? If you got your ass kicked at another club, I'm gonna bitch slap those guys you're with._

_Uhm, no, totally safe on the attack front. I did however get lucky last night. Twice._

_You back to being the mayor of whore island? That's awesome, do you remember the guy's name? lol_

_Yeah, bitch, and you will too. It was randy._

_OMG you got lucky in Ortonville. I hate you._

_Yeah, I know. We are off to dallas today, so I think there may be a talk._

_Uh oh. Men don't like talks, and you're not good at them. Keep your mouth shut and enjoy the ride._

_Sometimes I hated how much my best friend knew of me, and yet, I would never be mad at her because she was completely correct. __Love you bitch._

_Love you too, lucky slut._

I picked myself up and got into the bathroom. Quick shower, teeth brushed, my make-up actually put on slowly and artfully for once. I had on a pair of jeans that hugged every curve, flip flops, and a halter top that was a little lower cut than I should have probably worn. My hair was down in loose curls, flopping over my shoulders. I had confirmed the tickets for the flight, and schmoozed the customer service rep that the guys needed to have an upgrade due to their latest injuries – the airline happily complied – and so we are all flying first class to Dallas. I had two rooms reserved next to each other, one with a large whirlpool tub (my room). I had gone through and repacked everyone's things, and the bags were all waiting on their beds.

Matt was the first one back in the suite. He looked like he had run a marathon. He quietly waved to me on the couch, grinning ear to ear and heading for the room. He poked his head back out when he saw the suitcase work already done.

"Drea, did you pack me up?" I nodded and he smiled. "Thanks!" He walked back in and sat down on the couch with me. "So how was your night?"

"It was good Matt, not much going on. John went out celebrating, so he left as soon as we got back. Randy and I just watched some television." Lie. Big fat lie. "How was your night, more importantly…"

A dreamy look crossed Matt's face. "I love her. She is so amazing. It was really, really good." I smiled for him – Matt was obviously in love, and it was so warm to know these guys were capable of it. "I totally forgot how much I enjoyed being around her."

"Matt, I'm so happy for you. It's great!" I patted his hand that was on the back of the couch. "I've already confirmed out flights, and got everyone an upgrade to first class. The rooms are taken care of as well. All ya'll have to do is drive to the airport." I smiled.

"You're really on it this morning. What's got you so sharp?" Matt leaned back on the couch. Was I wearing a sticker that said 'I got laid' or something?

"Just a lot a sleep last night – and no controversy will do a body good." Lie again. Two lies, ah, ah, ah.

Matt and I chatted intermittently until the door opened, and John stumbled inside. I could smell the alcohol from across the room, but he looked pleased as punch. He still had to be half-soused. "Go take your shower. I packed up your suitcase, and it's on your bed." He nodded, grinning all the way into the room. "We're going to have to stop for breakfast for him, aren't we?"

"Oh yeah…it must have been a good night." As we both snickered to ourselves about John's goofiness, the door opened, and a very sweaty Randy walked through the door. He looked straight at me, with a slight smile on his face.

"Hey Matt, how was your night man?" He walked over to stand in front of the couch, between Matt and I.

"Totally amazing. You guys had a quiet night I heard. And John just came in, so I'm guessing he might win for the most fun."

Randy looked at me, then back to Matt. "Yeah, it was pretty quiet."

"I packed your suitcase already, and since I sent John in to shower in your room, just use the bathroom in ours."

Randy nodded and walked into his room to grab his bag. As he drug it, and himself, into the other bedroom, he nodded his head for me to follow him. "Drea, can you come here for a second. I need to ask you something." I gave a quick nod, and hopped off the couch to follow him into my room. Randy shut the door and whisked me up in his arms. I smiled at him and leaned in closer to his lips. The kiss was warm, and caused the same stomach flip as last night. We finally released the other, and he set me back down.

"If you had any doubts about this, that should make it certain how much I support it." He smirked at me, and those icy blue eyes twinkled.

"So far, so good." I watched him take a pair of jeans and shirt from his bag. "I have confirmed our flight, including an upgrade, and reservations. My room has a whirlpool in it." You would have thought I was a kindergartner with new crayons, trying valiantly to show everyone else in the room how cool I was. Randy smiled at me, and took off to the bathroom; I let myself out of the room.

Walking over to the couch again, I remembered that I may want to wipe that ridiculous grin off my face. Matt was laying with his eyes closed, and John came out of the other room, looking like time had finally caught up with him. I grinned as he came over to me, and parked on one of the bar stools.

"Have a long night? You look like you just fucked the mayor's wife and painted city hall." He shook his head out, and looked up at me. "What's wrong?" I knew worry when I saw it.

"Well, I know I partied, and I know there were girls around, but I woke up on a couch in the business center by myself."

"Oh-kay, where is the problem? You woke up without a chaser for the hang over?" I amused myself sometimes.

"No, Drea – I am missing some things from my bag. Some _important_ things – especially if you party with girls, if you catch my drift. I can't find them, and I don't remember using them, so I'm wondering if I had a little too much extra-curricular fun." Oh, fuck. I began to wonder if Randy had gotten us caught. I couldn't correct him – it would be hanging myself out to dry about Randy. I decided the best course of action for the third time today was to lie.

"John, I'm sure there is a good reason. You probably just lost them somewhere, or maybe they got rolled up into something else in your suitcase. No reason to worry. If you did get the opportunity to use them last night, and they are gone today, it means you were smart about it. I wouldn't worry too much." He looked pensive for a moment, then nodded and laid his head down on the bar to wait for our departure.

Randy came out, laid back in his jeans and t-shirt. He sat down on a chair to slip his shoes on, then came over to where I was sitting. "You ready to go?"

I nodded and walked into the room to grab my bags. I heard him slap John on the shoulder, and nudge Matt, telling them to go get their stuff, it's time to leave. As I waited by the door of the suite, he took my bags, and gave me the paperwork and keys to the room. "You deal with the check out, and I'll get your stuff and the other two to the car. Meet out front when you're done."

Everyone was silent in the elevator, and I split from the guys to check out when the doors dinged open. I had thanked the desk clerk when I heard the voice – nails on a chalk board. I started to walk towards the front entrance, seeing Randy waiting beside the car with my door open for me, but my flip flops were not carrying me fast enough and a blonde wall suddenly jumped into my path.

"I can't believe they kept you after all these problems you caused. I mean, it's obvious you're nothing but a glorified club skank. Who exactly did you blow to get this job?" I really, really, _really_ hated this bitch; Maryse looked pleased with herself.

"I'm sorry, but I don't speak whore." I pushed her aside and kept walking. Apparently, all I managed to do was to piss her off enough to follow me out to the car.

The door shut behind me, but only briefly, before Maryse caught up with me. "Listen you wannabe, you will never belong here. I know it, you know it, and everyone else knows it. Why don't you do us all a favor, and just go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under."

Before I could even stop myself, it came flying out of my mouth, "Listen Maryse, I'm sure somewhere in your little Podunk hometown, where they speak all that effing flutey French and complain about not shaving their nasty armpits, you're the queen bee. But if you don't back away from me, I'm going to show you exactly how far I can punt your slutty ass, because I could not give a shit less about you. Why don't you go back to doing what I hear you're great at? At least then I won't have to listen to your voice – you can't talk very well with a dick in your mouth, bitch." I heard snickers in the vehicle, and realized all three guys were holding their hands over their mouths, trying to keep the laughter contained. I almost ran to the car and crawled into the seat; Randy shut the door and came around the car. I stuck my hand out of my window, giving the blonde a one-finger salute, while her mouth was still agape, lobbing random foreign insults to me left and right.

No one said anything, but the guys just busted up as I neatly fidgeted with my shirt. It wasn't a moment I was particularly proud of, but I'll be damned if a bottle blonde ruined this day for me.

The plane was finally ready to board. We waited until all the other passengers had gone in – how can you expect 3 superstars to get on a plane first, then file every other passenger past them without everyone stopping for autographs? As the guys got in, they were discussing the sitting arrangements. It was finally decided that John would sit by Matt, and I would sit by Randy. I got talked into sitting near the aisle since I was smaller, and my elbows wouldn't get bumped. I think when I started hyperventilating, Randy may have realized I didn't fly well. He motioned for the stewardess, and upon her taking a quick look at me, I had several small bottles of vodka and a glass of juice quickly set before me. I popped all of them at once, and downed my chaser, waiting for the effects to knock me out.

"You that scared, babe?" Randy was leaning over slightly, taking care to whisper solely in my ear.

"Was it the death grip on the arm rests that gave it away, or…" I trailed off. I hated flying. I wanted to cry, but figured if I did, someone might see the tears and multi-colors of my face, then attribute them to one of the guys. I hated this – I felt like I had no control, and I was terrified.

"I'm here. Nothing is going to happen to you with me here." He patted my hand, and I glanced over at Matt and John. John was on the verge of full, open mouth snoring; Matt had his headphones in, sleeping mask on, and looked content. I glanced back at Randy, who had such a soft look on his face. I squeezed his offered hand and tried to feign a smile. "Just keep thinking of that bathtub, Drea."


	21. The Godfather

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Also, please feel free to review if you like. It helps to know if you like it, hate it, or are just trying to be nice and say hello. Any author likes to know what people think. Big shout-outs to Trebug, ., Bingobaby, agnesita1385, and Ley Elizabeth for the reviews and constructive help – I appreciate it greatly!**

**CHAPTER 21**

The flight was pretty easy and much quicker than I thought it would be. This helped out like you wouldn't believe. My vodka kicked in about ten minutes after Randy's reassurance, and I snuggled against his arm. He pulled his big sweatshirt from behind him, and tucked it around me, and managed to cover my hand as well. This is a good thing, because I never let go of his hand for the whole flight. I was still asleep when we landed in Dallas, and was gently awakened by a nudge, and Randy's eyes watching mine flutter open, glinting in the sunlight of the day. "Let's go, you're all done. Take the sweatshirt and hold onto it for me."

We exited the plane before any other passengers, and all three of the guys stepped aside to cover themselves up with hoodies. Sun glasses went on, and I trailed behind them as we approached the car rental counter. John was the first there and he started perusing the list of items available. He signed the paperwork, grabbed the keys, and everyone made their way out to the storage lot. There was a huge truck, club cab, waiting with all four doors open and a valet standing beside it. John nodded to the man, and while Matt and Randy threw the bags in the back, John tossed me up in the passenger seat. I would have climbed up, but unlike all my friend's big trucks, there were not rail steps beside it, and before I could argue, his strong hands had basically just thrown me up in the air like a rag doll.

"So where did you hook us up, Drea? Please tell me it's not that Radisson next to the bank building downtown." Apparently John had a bad experience there.

"No – I have you registered at the Hilton right across from the venue. And it is on a secure floor – only about half of the rosters could stay in the building, but ya'll are on the top floor with full time security to keep the unwanted visitors away."

"Good work." John turned and smiled as both Matt and Randy climbed up and in, doors shutting behind them as he booted up the GPS with our hotel address entered. "We're off."

Checking into the hotel was easy, but the guys were still discussing who was bunking with who when I came up to the group arguing in the lobby.

"Dude, I'd so much rather stay with Drea than either of you…"

"You weren't even there either night. I say I get to stay with her, since Randy has a lot on his mind with the match." John hadn't noticed me coming up behind them; none of them had.

"I think I should stay with her, and you two stay in the other room. I'm still not letting her out of my sight after the other night." Randy crossed his arms and seemed resolute. I tried to keep my excitement under wraps. "Besides that, John, you're not sharing a room with her and bringing home random girls – a little creepy, don't you think?"

"Speaking of matches - I still do not believe you okayed another open match with him, and for your title. Drea is going to be pissed." Matt was shaking his head. I guess John had filled him in on my displeasure with Randy taking stupid chances like that.

"Exactly – she will not be happy with this. It takes balls, Orton, I'll give you that. I'd never have an unscripted title match while doing hell in a cell. Ouch. Can't believe you went along with this idea…" I couldn't keep my quiet any longer.

"WHAT? Did I just hear that correctly? Matt, you and John, here are your keys to your room. I think Mr. Orton and I have something to discuss on the manager/talent level."

John and Matt almost sprinted out of the lobby, while I looked at Randy, who had his hand firmly on the back of his neck. "Can we at least take this to the room, Drea? People are staring." I nodded, but was furious at him. How could he do this again – and without consulting me. My arms were crossed the entire ride up on the elevator, and until we got into the room. I walked over to one of the beds and watched Randy put down my bags before I sat down.

"Now, before you say a word, Drea, hear me out."

"Hear you out – what happened to I'm not going to take any more risks like this until you at least talk to me. I don't want you to get hurt, let alone when you're in a match with no determined outcome. In a chain-link fence, if my information is correct."

"Well, I understand, but it was something I had to do. It's the only way to get Stephen back to playing along with the rules."

"You have to do that? You? Isn't that Mr. McMahon's problem?"

"He asked me to do it. I couldn't say no, and I didn't get the chance to tell you yet. He cornered me this morning while I was in the gym before we left. I'm sorry – I really am. But you can't just refuse Vince when he tells you to do something. Well, I can't. I didn't have you there to argue him back." Randy was trying to bend his terse lips into something that looked like a smile at the corners.

I sat and thought about what had just come out. Vince asked Randy to do this, and he hadn't stepped away from it – didn't hide. I had gotten out my displeasure about it, and I really tried to understand it. I was still very perturbed though, and didn't want to let him off too easily.

"So, you knew about it when you came back from the gym, but you didn't tell me then?"

He kneeled down in front of me, those eyes pleading for me to put away any bit of anger I might have. He already knew how to push buttons. "I would have told you, but I was still processing it, honestly. And all I was concerned with was kissing you again. You have been occupying ever inch of my mind since the club, and especially last night. If I said I would do this, it will end this little temper-tantrum Stephen is having – he will have to beat me or lose to me on his own, not because it was written in. I can shut him up, and then I will come back here and spend the night in that big tub with you." He had started that smirk, curling from one corner to the other.

"Randy – what happens if you get hurt? You're in a cage with a person who is upset. I don't believe for one minute that there is no chance you could be harmed. I don't want you hurt. No one can help you in there. He could still try to dye your hair – or if he decides to shove your face through the fence? That's your money maker, you know."

"Well, no one can help him either – and you know how lethal I can be when provoked." There were his evil eyes again, and I felt his hand slide over the top of my thigh. He needs to stop that or it's going to be a very tiring afternoon. "What will make you feel better about this? Tell me." I looked up at the ceiling and tried to think about it. I had an idea, but I'm not sure if it would be okay for me to either ask for or do.

"There is nothing that you can really do, Randy, but you will not leave my sight until you go down the ramp, and I'm the first person you see after this debacle. Got it?" He nodded with a big smile. "And, I'll tell you this right now; if you so much as make one more match with this psychopath, or anyone else, without consulting me, I will cut off certain parts and mail them back to you. Understand?"

"I will. You have my word." Those eyes were still piercing every defense mechanism I had. I could have laid back, and spent the rest of my days with him, just looking into those eyes. Smirking that he had now gotten his way, he stood up, and held out his hand to me. I slipped mine inside his, and he pulled me close to him.

I laid my head against his chest, wrapping my other arm around his waist. My hand still in his, he closed his arms around me, resting his head down on the top of my own. I took a deep breath and my knees almost buckled; he smelled like one of my favorite colognes, and when mixed with his natural scent, it was driving me nuts. All I could think about was crawling in bed with him, and finding reasons to keep him from that arena tomorrow. I hadn't spent much time with the person who Randy was facing, other than our short on-screen conversation, and I wasn't a fan. I wasn't sure of his thoughts or why he was picking on Randy, but I didn't care to know – it sounded like a spoiled brat was running around loose.

"So, what would you like to do today, babe? Maybe a movie? Whatever you want." His chest reverberated with every word. I leaned back slowly, and looked up at him. His face was calm, eyes soft. He had given me the opportunity to go in for the kill.

"I need to do some shopping, so you can find me a mall and come with." I tried the wide smile – I don't think he was buying it, and my lips were still a little sore and cracking. Out came the puppy eyes, and he tumbled like a pile of rubble.

"Shopping? Me? Are you sure?"

"Totally. If you're good, I will let you pick out some stuff, too." He raised his eyebrows at me. It was sealed.

I had sent Randy to let John and Matt in on the plan. Their afternoons were to be sleeping away most of the evening (probably in order to recover from one night out and prepare for another), so we had the keys to the truck and a giant mall to comb. Randy took this much better than I envisioned he would; I drug him all over. I grabbed some new heels, which he had to approve of, of course, and a couple new skirts to wear to the shows. I tried on some extra shirts, buying only one, but found a dress to kill for. It was a fitted cotton dress, hugging every curve I had. It was short all over, in a deep green, and in light of Randy's hand frisking me while trying it on, I purchased it on the spot. We found him a couple new Affliction hoodies, and a pair of knee-high leather heel boots for myself. Pretty successful I'd say. I even managed to convince him to run around the electronics store while I got that manicure I so rightly deserved.

The afternoon was tranquil. Nothing exciting, but I loved that I could spend the time shopping with someone I could feel myself falling for quickly. Again, I could hear my intellect questioning every thought I had about him, but the rest of me was so surprised that someone like him might like someone like me, I quickly turned the brain out. I had made the decision that this time I was going to follow my foolish heart, and enjoy the ride.


	22. Tag Along

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**I'm having a ball with this story – it's a great stress reliever to write, and the feedback is amazing! Please keep letting me know what you think! Thanks to all of the story fans, and here's a few for you guys!**

**CHAPTER 22**

We returned to the hotel in the late afternoon, purchases in tow and Randy seemed genuinely relaxed. He called John, who groggily answered on the fourth ring.

"Hey, get up lazy. We're back, and I need to get another workout in tonight." I heard muffled grumbling on the other end of the line. "I'm coming by your room in five." Randy ended the call, and flopped on one of the beds.

"Can I come?" Randy leaned his head up, surprised.

"What? Come where, babe?"

"To the gym. I haven't been since I started working, and I feel icky. If it would be invading guy time, I'm fine though. I just didn't know if you would care." I was rummaging through my suitcase, trying to find something that wasn't there. I was merely just trying to stay busy.

"Sure you can go. I have to lift tonight though, so you may kind of be on your own, but you can come with us." He was smiling at me, which eased my nervousness away. I grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then tucked away into the bathroom to change. When I came out, Randy had his eyes shut, still laying back on the bed. I was just about done tying my running shoes when I glanced back, and met his intense gaze.

"What? Are the girls hanging out?" I giggled to myself as I placed my hand over my chest.

"No, I was just thinking." I didn't know he just thought sometimes. I guess he's human. Who knew?

"Well, c'mon then Einstein, you're giving John more time to stay in bed." I picked up the key card, and started to open the door. Randy stood up, and grabbed a pair of shorts and t-shirt from his things. By the time I had opened the door, gone out far enough to turn and look up and down the hall, then turned back to look inside the room, he was behind me, ready to go.

Halfway down the hall, I saw a huge body leaned up against the wall. Seeing us coming towards him, John kicked himself off the wall, and nodded at Randy. There was silence in the hallway, elevator, and into the gym. I tucked myself away in a corner to stretch before climbing on an elliptical. John and Randy wandered over to a few machines hidden by a small stack of weights. As I climbed on to my machine, and was reaching for the remote to change the television station, I heard laughter erupt from the hidden corner. At least things were lighthearted.

I was really surprised how far out of shape one can get in a couple weeks time. I was desperately trying not to have a heart attack, and pretty well failing miserably, when John walked past me on his way to get a drink. He smirked – it was a look that said he knew something I didn't, it was good information, and I probably would not be getting access to it any time soon. I felt my head tilt like a dog hearing his name, and got a wink back for my troubles. My legs were on auto-pilot, thank goodness – for a moment I thought they might fall off, and now I can't feel anything – and thanks to John's little wink, all blood was rushed to my head trying to assist my brain in thought. What the hell does he know that I don't? What had they been talking about? Was I being paranoid?

While my inner monologue was pleading its case with my mouth to let it escape, someone tapped on my shoulder. It snapped me from my thoughts. I turned and saw John's smiling face taking a quick look at me while climbing on the machine next to me, giant grin and all.

"What are you doing, mister?" Wasn't he supposed to make sure that Randy wasn't killing himself in the corner…'cause if not, I might end up losing my job yet.

"Oh, just taking a quick break from the weights to get the heart going. Cardio does a body good." He was still beeping his way around the console. I have no real frame of reference about John, or his mannerisms when he's trying to hide something, but he wasn't even really doing a decent job of hiding the fact that he had a little nugget of gold in his pocket.

"Are you going to spill what's running through your mind, or do I have to drag it out of you?"

"What are you talking about, sweetie?" His grin widened and he threw up his arms in a shrug. "I know nothing. Absolutely nothing. I'm an untouched canvas."

"I don't believe you. You know something. Tell me, Cena." I gave him my fiercest look; eyes furrowed and lips pulled tight across my face – or as close as they could do with the limitations that my still bruised face had on their ability to move. He did nothing but keep that grin on his dimpled face. "Humpf." I sighed out as I kept bouncing up and down, right next to a smiling John, bouncing right beside me. It looks like I might have to pull out the big guns. I turned my face back to John slowly, batting my eyelashes over my very best puppy dog eyes; my bottom lip pouting out and trembling slowly. "Please, John, tell me?"

At first I thought he would laugh himself right off the machine, but after a couple bats of the eyelashes, he looked like he was really having to try hard to stay stoic. I was getting to him; he was going to crack. I pushed the lip out further, despite the pain, and gave a little one more little look with those doe eyes.

John sighed loudly, and shut his eyes. "You did that on purpose." I didn't celebrate quite yet – what happened if he decided to call back that sigh, and there was no telling of the news he has. "Fine, fine – Randy is over there prattling on like a Japanese school girl in a Hello Kitty outlet. You've made quite the impression on our anger management-challenged friend."

I ducked my head – I felt my cheeks getting hot. After readjusting my hair, I pulled my head back up, small grin creeping across my face. I could feel John's gaze still on me, and I was right; he was boring a hole right through me.

"What?" I think that he felt my tension with the subject, and he started to snicker to himself. "What is so freaking funny?"

"You. You're hilarious. You already know what I'm telling you, and yet, you are blushing like a twelve year old. Not only that, but you're just as bad as he is." John stood still and let his machine come to a halt, then stepped off and in front of me. "Just between you and I," he looked from one side to the other, then back, "I would act surprised when Randy talks to you about plans for after his match. I think you may be in for something special if he wins."

"What did he tell you?" Oh God, he knows. He knows about my extra-curricular activities with my other charge. At minimum he knows about plans that I don't have an idea about – at worst, he knows every bit of detailed information.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough." John put his smirk back on, and turned to go back over to the corner containing Randy. "Get your ass up bitch, let's lift!" Again with these two and the confusion. I suppose I just had to come to terms that my life was going to be all inside jokes and confusing metaphors from now on.

For what seemed to be an eternity, I kept myself bouncing up and down to the echoes of grunting men over in the corner. There was a muffled conversation taking place between sets, but nothing loud enough for me to hear. I actually outlasted the guys, partially by keeping my eyes off the clock, and monitoring my legs for fear they were going to disconnect my body, flip me off, and walk away. It wasn't until John and Randy both leaned over my console and looking at my stats, and started getting animated that I looked at the numbers myself.

"Whoa, girl, you need to climb off. You'll never walk again." John offered his hand over to me, and in taking it, I checked out what caused them so much pause. I'd been on this thing for almost two hours, and I've made it further than I've probably collectively walked in my whole life. And I used to walk from campus to the bars. As the machine slowed, I took a quick step down and my knees about buckled.

"I carried her last time, Cena, you're up." I looked over at Randy, whose blue eyes were twinkling as he leaned on the top of the console. "Don't give me that look, I know you're not going to make is up there. I packed you last time when you're knees got all wobbly."

"I really don't need any help, thank you very much. I can make it just fine." I took another few steps without any kind of incident, and right as I was making a break for the door, I tripped and face planted. Despite my nose being smashed against the floor, I felt the need to defend my choices. "I hope you both know this is more the result of my own clumsiness, and not my dedication to that machine." I don't think they heard me; there was too much laughter echoing around the room.

I felt two strong hands remove me from the floor, and toss me easily in the air. Randy's hand was covering his eyes; his mouth open wide and laughter pouring from it. I was currently resting over John's muscular shoulders, and he had a death grip on my legs as I leaned up. I let out a loud sigh, and decided it was better to with the flow.

A shower had never felt so good in all my life. It felt so wonderful that I sat down and stretched out in the tub. After forty minutes, I gave up, and got dried off and dressed. When I came out, Randy gave me a quick hug as he pushed me out of the bathroom door, and I heard the shower start up. I guess some one really needed to get clean. I set myself up on one of the beds after throwing on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, propped up on all sides by a pillow fort, when the door creaked open and Randy appeared in his towel. I felt my lip surge with pain; apparently I had bitten down a little too hard, but what I was looking at was amazing.

"You okay, Drea?"

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, I just hallucinated." Yeah, bad thoughts about you plus me minus that towel and minus the clothes I had on equaling fun. My mom was right – math did come in handy.

"So, I kind of thought about maybe just getting some food ordered in, watch some TV and get really good rest. You into that?" He was milling around the room, grabbing a pair of basketball shorts; I laid my head back on the pillow wall I had built, and I felt him sit down on the bed next to me. By the time I had leaned up, his face was right against mine. I sat and searched his eyes for a while; I got lost. Just as we were leaning into each other, my phone rang.

Randy searched for a moment before finding the phone on the corner of the chest by the television. He tossed it over to me, and I flicked it on.

"Hello, this is Drea," I would have loved to have known what ring I was stepping into, but I figured there had to a be a good reason for whomever was calling.

"Drea, this is Stephanie." Whew, not a stalker.

"Hi Stephanie, how are you tonight?"

"I'm doing great, hope you are too. I do have to discuss something pretty urgent with you, though." Please don't say that you've decided that sleeping with a hot male associate is now frowned upon. My face must have matched my mental worry; Randy cocked his head to one side as he sat back down on the bed by my legs. I really just wanted to wrap them around his half naked body, but must focus – boss on the phone; must focus. "Drea, there has been a last minute addition to John's schedule. There is a high-end opening going on tonight, and we've worked with the owner's company before. I got a call asking for someone like John to show up for the opening of this new place, and I thought you might be able to get John to go. The owner is offering everything gratis, of course, and he is a very nice man to work with. Big fan. He knew we were here for the show, and called in a favor. Can you see if John will do this, and text me? John does get a plus one, so he can bring a date or whatever. Let me know if you get it going."

"Uh, sure. I can sure try, and let you know. What's the address and details?"

"I'm having one of the assistants send you an email now. Just keep me in the loop, and good luck! Thanks, Drea!" She sounded so freaking chipper – I'm either in for the fight of my life trying to get this man to show up at this opening, or I'm on some hidden video show.

"No worries, Stephanie. I'll get it done. Have a good evening."

"You too! Bye." Click. Whoa. I've been ambushed. As I pull the phone away, I realize that Randy is staring me down with a very puzzled look on his face.

"What did Stephanie want?" I leaned forward a little bit, and readjusted.

"Apparently, they went ahead and scheduled John to show up to an opening tonight. Said it was a favor to someone. I have to go inform him, and somehow talk him into going."

Right as my thought left my mouth, Randy erupted into peals of laughter. I crossed my arms and wondered what the hell is going on.

"Is there something I should know about? First Stephanie seems a little uneasy, now you're laughing at me?" I think Randy would have answered this, had he been able to do so between gasps for air. He had doubled over on his side, arms wrapped tightly around his chiseled abs, keeping himself in hysterics. My eyes instinctively rolled and I stared down my watch face waiting for him to come back to the world of the verbose.

This took almost five minutes. I really thought he might pee himself – this better be good.

"Drea," he almost whispered. All his air had left his lungs, and he was working hard to get anything out. "You are in a pretty crappy situation here, babe. John doesn't do well with short notice for things like this. He's got this whole checklist of stuff to get done before it – he's basically a girl. Plus, the way he's been going lately, I'll bet he drinks them out of house and home."

"So this is no reason to laugh at me! I've got to corral this guy!" So far John has not given me a moment's pause, and I was totally sure of my own ability to get what I needed to accomplished, but these reactions might make a lesser person stress. I took a deep breath before standing up and going over to the door. "I guess I'll be right back. I have to go try to make miracles happen, and continue to keep my job. Please don't make yourself laugh so hard that you suffocate. I'd hate to have to plan a funeral." With my last quip, I grabbed a key card and my cell. As the door to the room slowly shut, I could hear Randy snickering at me.

I will show these people how persuasive I can be. There was a total Elle Woods moment. I could do this. I would use my ability to play stupid to my advantage. I could maybe trick him into doing it. Can't use the girls; I would never stoop so low as to offer sexual favors. This thought caused me to look down – I had neglected to cover up my boyshort panties and my cropped short shirt with actual clothing before exiting my room. I guess cleavage could help me – just nothing else.


	23. An Offer You Can't Refuse

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**I'm having a ball with this story – it's a great stress reliever to write, and the feedback is amazing! Please keep letting me know what you think! Thanks to all of the story fans, and here's a few for you guys!**

**CHAPTER 23**

I calmly took a breath as I knocked on the room door. I heard footsteps drawing closer, then the door swung open. John leaned up against the door frame, nothing but a grin and sweatpants on his body. I could not help but to appreciate the sight; if I said I didn't notice, I'm sure someone would bust me for lying. He was obviously enjoying the view being offered on the other side of this little exchange as well – I had become a little bit more shy about my appearance when a cool draft had hit me in the hall.

"Hey, what brings you here? Want to come in?" John leaned back to the door and I nodded as I inched into his room. There was nothing that had been disrupted in his room, but I could tell he was laying down since there was a John-size imprint on the bed closest to the door.

"John, I'm really sorry to barge in on you like this…I know you were resting. I'm not interrupting, am I?" I batted my eyelashes at him as he walked past. I saw a small smile light his eyes up slightly.

"No, never a bother for a pretty girl to come see me." My cheeks betrayed me before I could prepare. I bet John was able to charm his way into about anything, and I could not really defend myself against it very well.

"Where did Matt go?" I didn't see anything that would have even let me know John was supposed to be bunking with someone else in the room. No bags, not a thread of the other bedspread out of place, and I was now sidetracked about where my other responsibility was.

"Dunno, something about some chick coming into town, and he was heading out. I know you didn't come over to ask me about Matt - now what is going on, sugar tits?" I smiled in spite of myself; time for the show to kick up.

I exhaled loudly. "I really am sorry to spring this on you. But,"

"But what?"

Another loud whoosh of air comes flooding out. I figure the best way is to just get it out; I start to ramble, and could not stop myself until it was all out. "I got a call from Steph, and she needs a favor that she asked me to ask you to do. There is someone who they've worked with before, and he is apparently opening up a new business – bar or something or other – and he asked her if you would be his guest for the opening. It's tonight, and I just got the call, like literally two minutes ago, and I know you probably won't want to go. I'm supposed to figure out a way to get you to go, and then let Steph know, and…" I trailed off. Exasperated and out of breath. I glanced over, and met John's eyes. His face was very direct, his jaw clenched, and I started to worry. "John, I'm so sorry, and I understand if you wouldn't want to go. I really do. And I hate to spring this on you. But I can just tell Steph that you're not able to go, or couldn't find someone to take, or something. She won't be too mad, will she?" I twisted my hands together and fidgeted, waiting to find out if John would take pity on me and give in. He was still silent, and as my worry increased, I started contorting myself up and shielding away from his glare.

"Well, it's nice to know I'm getting farmed out at the drop of a hat here. But, you didn't know about this before did you?" I guess my twitching was making John nervous; he grabbed my hands and trapped them beneath his own.

"No, John, I swear that I just got her call. I can show you if you want."

"Then there is nothing that we can do about notice. But you came to talk to me, told me the truth, and I've got no reason to believe you would be scamming me. I'll go. I won't stay all night, but I'll go." Damn, I should have asked for him to lobby Steph to give me a raise while I was at it! Before he could change his mind, I sprung forward, wrapping my arms around his neck, holding tight around him.

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" I felt his chest heaving with laughter, and as I leaned back down, his smile was wide and eyes bright. I gave one of my biggest grins to him.

"There is one condition, though."

"Anything! Name it!" I was entirely too happy that my persuasion had worked so well. My word vomit kept right on coming.

John's smirk widened over his face. "Go get dressed. You're going with me. I'll need a date, and I'm not sparking anymore rumors by taking one of the divas." Oh, fuck. I winced, but weighed my options carefully – I could either fight this and maybe end up having to call Stephanie to say that there is no John making an appearance, or just suck it up and go with it. "I expect you to try and look hotter than me; I've got an image to protect."

"Sure thing. Gimme twenty minutes and I'll be right back. Get ready mister!" I jumped up and out of his room before he could argue. I'm sure Randy would think this is okay, right?

My key card clicked in the door, and I found Randy laid up on the bed, zoned out watching the television. I came in quickly, crawling onto to Randy's lap, and pulled his attention away from the television. I saw a small grin cross his lips, and before he could even start in, I cut him off at the pass.

"So, you should definitely take me to Vegas, Mister Orton. I'm just that damn good." His hands were roaming around my waist and hips, before settling in as they cupped my butt tightly.

"I know you're pretty damn good. But I'll bite; what did you do this time?" His voice was low and growling. I liked this. I could use this to my advantage later, but right now it is not the point.

"John is going. And he is doing it without any kind of fighting, yelling, or problems of any kind."

"I'm impressed. You should write a book."

"Lemme give it a try – Handling Wrestlers for Dummies?" Randy chuckled.

"There is one caveat though."

"What's that, babe? You have to promise him that you'd forget where he stayed after this?"

I swallowed back before opening my mouth back up. "He asked if I would go with him. I said I would – please don't be mad at me." I winced back as Randy eyed me for a moment, then smiled widely as his hands came up to grasp my face between them.

"It's your job. Go right head, but you'd better behave. And never leave his side; I mean it." I was surprised. I had totally counted on him taking this in a totally different way. "I don't trust a lot of people to do anything, but you're safe with John – not as safe as with me, here in this bed, not wearing…much – but John will keep his eye on you." Randy was right. It was difficult to imagine something more enticing than the heap of good looking man under me. I suddenly realized how good my job is – I have to choose clubbing with one hottie over staying in bed with another.

"Thank you. I promise to be a good girl, stick close, and I won't be gone for too long. Besides, I can think of a couple things I need to accomplish tonight." My cheeks were turning a light shade of red, but I could see the clouds forming over his eyes, and I would like where this ended up I'm sure.

"Oh yeah? What do you have planned for tonight?"

"I'll show you when I get back. I think you'll like it." With that, I jumped up and ran over to my bag. I was really starting to run a little low on clothes that were fit to wear out. I grabbed a black strapless tube dress and my new thigh-high leather heel boots. Good of a time as any to break in new footwear.

"Not wearing the green one?" Randy had leaned up a little farther on one of his elbows, watching me decide on the outfit.

"Nope. I'm saving it."

"Good. I don't want you looking too hot when you go out without me. I trust Cena, just not the rest of the male population." The overprotective thing was really amazingly charming. And really, really hot in that big, bad man sort of way. Did I mention my love for overly testosterone driven men?

I ran into the bathroom, and emerged a few minutes later ready to go. I shook my hair out and down over my shoulders, and swiped on some light eye shadow around my black rimmed eyes. The bruises and swelling were barely visible (thank you Clinique and MAC). As I was perfecting my pout with nude lip gloss, I heard a loud growl coming from the bed. I turned to see Randy, and he was obviously happy about the picture. The look on his face was one of pure lust and want, and it was turning me on to no end.

"You look good. Really good."

I raced toward the door, grabbing my clutch off the dresser and the keycard next to it. "Thank you very much. Keep that in mind, and I'll be back as soon as I can. Stay outta trouble." Randy snickered under his breath as he stood up from the bed.

"Me? Trouble? Trouble is scared of me." I brought my body hard against his, and as I gave him a quick hug I realized what I was leaving at home…a very excited, deathly hot, aggressive, and yummy man. This had better be really fucking quick.

"Well, don't fight with it. I'll be back shortly." And with that, I was running down the hall back to John's room.

When I arrived at his door, I gave it a quick knock. The door swung open, and a smiling face greeted me. John had cleaned up pretty well. His face looked clean shaven, black button down shirt partially tucked into dark wash jeans that fit him perfectly. Nice shoes. He smelled heavenly.

"You look good! I'm impressed." He dropped his chin slightly, and when he raised it back, his eyes were raking over my body from my toe tips to my hair. I knew I was blushing a little more than I might like, and I started to fidget with my hair.

"Likewise. I'm guessing the warden is okay with you coming out to play?" John stepped out from his room, and we started toward the elevators. Walking next to him, he offered me his arm, which I took. John was ever the gentleman.

"Yes, he is. But I'm under strict orders to not leave your side no matter what. So I guess that means you are stuck with me for a bit." I grinned as he hit the button for the elevator. John glanced over and returned my smile.

"Not true. It's hard to be stuck with such a gorgeous girl." Damn; boy has some skills.

I picked the directions out of the email that Steph's assistant sent to me, and told the driver as he opened the door for us. He said he had been by the place; I would like it, it was nice. Couldn't be any worse than the last club I went to.


	24. I Know You Want Me

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Here is the newest little chapter in the Days that are Drea's life. Keep those comments coming – I welcome feedback and any thoughts you guys might have. Hope ya'll are enjoying.**

**CHAPTER 24**

The limo stopped right in front of a massive building, and apparently news had spread about the opening. There were people as far as the eyes could see, and I heard loud music thumping softly outside – which could only mean it was deafening inside. There were shouts from people as John lead me through the maze, and graciously, he paused to address most of them. John stopped for photos and autographs, and I tried to make myself scarce, all to no avail. There were questions about who I was, why I was there, and if I was the new flavor of the week. News of John's usual antics had really gotten around.

I was totally right – the music was beyond loud inside. It was a large restaurant with an even larger bar area attached. The groupies were out in force, and I've never seen so many skanks in one room before, and I went to college. But the beats were loud and fast, and since this was the first time to really go out after the incident, there was no reason to not enjoy myself – once I got over the initial panic attacks and flashbacks subsided. John and I were ushered to an ultra swanky VIP section overlooking the dance floor and bar area. Our very perky waitress brought up some mixers and bottles, then about squealed her head off when she realized who John was.

"She's cute John, there you go!"

He leaned in closer to me to reply, "She's not really my type. Plus, she's like ten. How can someone so young even work at a place like this?" After the obligatory photos for her myspace account, we were left to our own devices.

There were random people in and out of the area all night, patting John's back, taking pictures, telling lame jokes, and everything else imaginable. He put on a brave face, smiling and laughing at everything that I had an inkling might be annoying the crap out of him. Whilst I waited, I was dancing over in a corner by myself, leaning against the rails, surveying the pandemonium that was going on beneath me. Apparently my love of all things Pitbull had leaked out, and I was not going to let an opportunity to dance like a stripper working a pole go to waste. That nasty dude should not take away one of my favorite ways to pass the time. I was entirely too tied up in dancing to notice that John had walked up behind me until I felt someone press against my back, and saw two arms clamp on the rails beside me. I jumped and braced my arms against the rails, and he leaned in close to talk to me, preventing the freak out that was pending; he was so close that I could feel his breath hot on my neck.

"I'm surprised Randy let you out like this. You are pretty damn cute doing what you're doing." Just to toy with him, I pressed back against him as my hips took over. I felt his chest vibrate as a loud moan escaped his lips.

"So, this joint really isn't all that bad, is it?" John nodded. I knew I had him wrapped around my finger. That look on his face was transparent. I thought it might be a good idea to make small talk that didn't seem like I was trying to get into his pants.

"Thus far, it's a nice place – but I don't know if I would be here every night. There are a lot of gorgeous women though."

"Well, you should go find you one then."

"Nah, I bet they are nothing but trouble. Besides, I can't keep you out too late." I watched his lips curl up into a smirk.

There was at least another hour and a half of dancing, and John never removed himself from my back. People yelled and cheered, then applauded when they saw John beside me. I don't even think I can begin to imagine how many photos were taken of us. This wouldn't end well, but for right now I was having fun and felt totally safe from anyone else in the world. John had plenty of natural rhythm, and we were dancing all over the lounge area, laughing like two kids. I was twirling and singing at the top of my lungs, battling back and forth with John. I had to take a quick seat, just to give my feet a quick rest – as much as those heels looked amazing, breaking them in was hell. I leaned back just enjoying the time out when John came over next to me and sat down.

"For a white guy, you're pretty rhythmically advanced." John laughed at me and took a slow pull off his drink.

"Shawty, I got this on lock. I could say the same for you." I smirked back at him. He scooted a little closer. "You know, I'm happy to see you enjoying yourself. You're a pretty fun time when you're not stealing shirts or causing fights."

"Never gonna live it down, am I?" I blushed in spite of myself. "Uh, thanks, I think." This has to be flirting again, and why can I not just remove myself from it? Maybe it would be better to do so; Randy was waiting on me at the hotel, and just thinking of his last guttural growl was enough to send sparks flying through my body. "John, we've been here for a while now. Do you think we might be close to ready to leave? I'm running a little low on party spirit – what with the blisters and all."

John finished his drink, nodded, and stood up in front of me, offering me a hand. I took it and was immediately whisked up to be right against his body. Eyes were searching over both of us, and my hand was held in John's for a moment longer than would have said friendly intent. The bass started thumping harder, and instinctively, my hips betrayed me and started swaying back and forth against John's. He ran his hands along my arms and around my back, holding me in so close I could have told you that his stomach was rumbling. His movements started to match mine; why was this feeling so good?

Oh well, I thought – this is the last little gift to this place, and I could just shut up and enjoy it. I felt John's hot breath on my neck as he was singing along with the song, holding me against him for all he was worth, as we flowed back and forth in time with the music. There was a frisky grin written all over John's face as he leaned back, and seeing it made me smile. I realized he was playing it up for our public, partially his own enjoyment as well, but mainly for the viewing public. I could see the pointing and hushed talking. I winked as I stepped things up a notch; before he could object, I pushed his hands down farther onto my butt and hips, and then jumped up to wrap my legs around him. He laughed as he pulled me out of mid-air, then waved as flashbulbs went off across the VIP room.

"Randy will kick my ass, I hope you know that."

"Nah – I'm still wearing my clothes. You're safe." I winked at him, gripping his neck with one hand and pulling against him closer, which again caused a twitter to run through the crowd of people staring us down. At the time that I felt eyes all over me, John leaned in close to my neck and buried his face while bouncing me up and down.

His chest was heaving from laughter, and the breath was hot as I heard him whisper, "Now, I will die. You know shit this good doesn't stay out of the light for long."

I laughed. John Cena was playing the public against him, and from what I could tell, he was enjoying every moment of it. I released the vise-like grip my legs had around him, and he gently placed me down. I grabbed my handbag, and John thanked the club owner, whose mouth was hanging wide open at what he just witnessed and nodding. John grabbed my hand, and I instinctively fell in line behind him, giving a short wave at the public as we left the club.

"That last one is going to be bad unless you tell Randy about it."

John chuckled, pulled out his cell, and started texting. "Oh, it's already done." I grinned, knowing that I had just aided and abetted John's assault on events he didn't want to attend.

I left John at the elevators on our floor, him going towards his room and me to mine. I thanked him profusely again, and tried to get into my room as quietly as possible. The key clicked the lock, and I held the door behind me until it shut after I walked in. The room was dark, and I leaned against the wall to take my boots off. I padded over to the bed where I could hear Randy's heavy breathing.

I took my dress over my head, and shook my hair out again. Softly, I began to climb on the bed, working my way up from Randy's feet and legs. As my hips hit his, I lay down against his chest.

"Hey trouble, you asleep?" I felt him stir, and his hands began to roam around my hips and sides. His answer was a bit groggy.

"I was…but I guess I'm not now. You back from entertaining the city with John?" I could detect the hint of sarcasm in his voice, and I growled back to him softly in spite of myself.

"Yeah, we're done giving people things to talk about. Too bad you weren't there, they played some pretty good music."

"Oh, I know. The photos are already bouncing around everywhere. Lucky I know you prefer me to Cena, but I mean, who could blame you." I leaned up a bit with this statement, feeling a bit challenged.

"You all that now, huh?"

Randy leaned up a bit against me, and his breath tickled my earlobe as he spoke. "I _am_ that good. I can make you moan with a look, babe, and I'm willing to bet I can make it worth your while."

I ran my hands over his chest and arms as he leaned back down to the bed. Randy's body was a work of art sculpted by Michelangelo himself. His arms were massive and cut in all the right places, and he flexed under my touch. I lifted my fingers so that the tips were barely tracing over his shoulders and down his chest. His chest rippled and my breath caught in my throat; I loved the feel of his body and it was fast becoming one of my favorite things about this experience.

"What makes you think that one is going to make me give in?" I was going to make him earn it.

Randy's chest heaved forward as I heard a "humpf" escape his lips before he spoke, "I know you will because you're already mine." I could see his eyes in small slivers from the glow emanating around the curtains – they were bright and made me weak. There was a stirring down deep in my gut, pulling me to him more powerfully.

"Yours? What, did you pee on my leg to mark me?"

"No. But I'm claiming you. You're mine…and I don't share or play well with others." And with that, he pulled me down beside him, nestled between the side of his chest and rock-hard arm. Randy leaned his head over and rested it against mine. "Now, come here, and tell me all about those ideas you had before you left…"


	25. Place Your Bets

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Here is the newest little chapter in the Days that are Drea's life. Keep those comments coming – I welcome feedback and any thoughts you guys might have. Hope ya'll are enjoying.**

**CHAPTER 25**

We slept in for a while the next morning. When I finally rolled over, I was snuggled up to a pillow without Randy there. As I leaned up, I saw him sitting in the chair, typing away at his laptop. Today was the pay-per-view, and suddenly my stomach lurched thinking of what he was going to do tonight. I laid where I was, snuggled in and admiring the way the sun was tracing his muscles. He really was gorgeous, and at this point in time, I knew he had all kinds of talents. I suppose that I must have drifted back off, since the next thing I knew Randy was crawling back under the covers with me.

"Hey sleeping beauty, you awake?" I felt large arms pulling me to him after my snuggle pillow had been removed. I batted my eyes open slowly, and was met with a smirk.

"Yeah, I think I am. Why are you so bright eyed this morning?" I could barely even hear myself. I never had much of a voice in the mornings. Today was a little worse due to prior theatrics.

He looked surprised by my question. "You don't remember? I don't believe that in the slightest." And the smirk began to grow longer and larger.

"Oh."

"Oh?" I tried to burrow my head to Randy's neck deeper. I wasn't quite sure that I was prepared for this to be relived just yet. "Why are you hiding? It wasn't anything bad, and I'm pretty sure I should send you out without me every night if that is the result." He was obviously amused with himself. I wasn't quite sure I was ready to be the fodder for everyone in the company – the new girl has let herself get tangled in Randy Orton's sheets. Great start Drea; but definitely fun.

"No, it's fine." I had to change this conversation's direction. "So, what's the plan for today. Anything special I should know about? I want you ready with your game face on. You won't be any fun if you end up in traction."

"Baby, I feel like I could run a marathon. Today is beautiful, I'm going to have some breakfast with you, and we'll start worrying about the match this afternoon." I felt a swift smack on my ass, making me jump straight up as he laughed. "Now get up, come shower with me, and we will go get some breakfast afterwards." I watched, mouth agape still from the impromptu tap, as he rolled out of the bed and headed off to the bathroom, sliding out of his shorts on the way. I would have normally protested a smack like that, but I admit freely that watching him walk away made me forget. I followed him in, and reveled in the warm water and Randy. It was one of the longest showers of my life, but was well worth the time.

After getting dressed, and Randy's repeatedly checking his email (for a reason he would not divulge), breakfast was next on the agenda. On our way to the elevator, John happened to pop out of his room.

"Hey buddy, what you doing?" We both stopped as John spoke. I smiled meekly and looked at the ground. I prayed they didn't mention me for anything.

Randy nodded towards me. "We're heading out for breakfast. You wanna come?"

"Sure." The door shut behind John as he joined in our little procession. I let the guys' chatter take over and remained content to just be an accessory. That was until John decided to discuss previous events.

"So, you're gonna loan her to me when I go out from now on, right?" I knew my cheeks turned bright red in spite of myself. Randy laughed out loud.

"Well, if you can keep a good eye on her and I end up with the same entertainment, I'm for it." He elbowed John as both erupted in a fit of laughter that caused tears and some slight wheezing. "Maybe then everyone will quit giving you crap for finding random girls."

"Thanks for asking my opinion and talking about me like I'm not here." Both were still wiping tears from their eyes as we entered the restaurant and were lead to our table. "Or that you guys regard me as chattel."

Randy leaned over and gave me a kiss on the forehead while I caught John giving me a longing gaze before he broke it off with a quick wink. "It's okay baby, just wait until those pics show up and I've got to explain how John stole my girl. Like that is even a possibility."

This was my opportunity to get one over on them. "Oh, I dunno, Mr. Ladies Man. John's got game. You should see those pictures." John laughed as his eggs arrived, and Randy gave me an incredulous look. I chose to ignore it for my waffle with extra chocolate chips.

The meal and the rest of the day moved by quickly. As we arrived at the arena, I could tell Randy was slipping into game mode as the afternoon progressed. Most of the stars had become a little less jovial as time ticked down, but Randy was the worst. He was really doing a horrible job of keeping me from worrying. I tooled around in the back of the venue as much as was possible, trying to keep away from him and prevent adding undue stress until it was necessary. The talent did their usual spots and fan stunts, but people were everywhere chatting about moves and bitching about re-writes on their matches and promos.

As the show started and the crowd roared to life, I could feel myself tensing up at every opportunity. I already felt antsy about this night, and just what my charges were in store for themselves. I politely excused myself from Randy's locker room at one point to wander the halls further. A PA cornered me and asked me to give another round of last minute script changes to Randy and John. I realized that my numbers were dwindling in that moment; Matt had just been wheeled away with an accidental injury he suffered during his match, and Ted was lost to the blonde girl. Cody had been traded to a different show a while back, and now I've been left with John and Randy. The two pillars of strength. And they were my only charges to keep on the straight and narrow – which wasn't usually where we partied at. I guessed maybe Stephanie saw something in me that assured her I could handle this assignment. I should probably write her a thank you note.

I walked back into the locker room and handed over the script changes to John, who was pacing back and forth, and then to Randy. John seemed a little disturbed, and flopped down in the chair after his quick glance.

"John, what's wrong?" I figured there might be something on his mind I could help with. Besides, who ever wants the nice friend to be upset like that?

"I guess my time off has been approved. I'm going to lose tonight." He wrung his hands together and exhaled loudly.

"Time off? What does that have to do with you losing?"

"Well, I asked Vince about taking a little time off after we had the debacle with the divorce scenario. Creative needed a something that would make me disappear. I guess they are going to try and do a turn – make me bad – so that I'll be able to get out for a while. I'm going to lose, and start the whole thing off."

"Oh. So this is okay with you? I mean, what happens now?" I was truly confused, and a little freaked out. No John?

John leaned back in the chair and smiled slightly. "Yeah, it's okay, Drea. I want to take a little break, see some family. Plus, it means you'll have less headaches without me AND Randy to watch – definitely less flash photography." Towards the end, John's slight smile grew. I thought he might down right laugh when bringing Randy into the conversation.

"Now you know that's not true. I'm sure I can cause more headaches for myself than you both can." I smiled gently at John as he stood up and came over to me. I was pulled into a big hug, buried deep between his massive arms and his chest. I felt him lean his head down next to my ear as he exhaled loudly.

"I haven't left yet – no need to be sad."

"No way, I'll save the tears." I giggled in spite of myself as John released the hug and wandered towards the locker room door. I gave him a quick wave as he winked, and he was out the door. As I stood there watching, arms crossed, I heard rustling behind me; I had completely forgotten about Randy's presence in the room.

I spent the time up until Randy's match sitting on the couch, watching the broadcast on the monitor while he paced. Then there was the quick trip to catering to grab some water, which inevitably didn't get opened. And after watching John's already prophesized demise, and his extended exit, it was time. I know I had gone sheet white; I was concerned about what was going to happen, who was waiting for Randy, and just how bad this would end up being. Randy's face had gone to a place that I had never even seen before, and frankly, it was more scary than the look on his face from the club that night, and it was definitely worse than the look on his face the last time Gingy tried to make a pass at me. What gave me pause wasn't the slanted brows, or the terse lips and clenched jaw; it was this small glint in his dead, dark eyes. I read that spark as a small part of him that may have had a fear of the unknown. But then I watched him stare down some lowly intern who was handing him his belt outside the locker room door, I knew there was no fear – at least none he would admit to.

I had trailed him all the way to the curtain, and held up as he stood quietly waiting for his entrance to sound through the arena. I reached out my arm to lightly touch his elbow, and I saw his head turn slightly for me to catch his eye.

"Be careful…please." There was no response, just a glint in those dark, evil eyes. "And beat the piss out of him; there will be no more of this shit." I had my mean face on, but the moment the word "shit" left my lips, I saw the sociopath smirk cross his lips.

"Done." And with that, the music triggered and he disappeared through that black fabric, and the crowd roared as he wandered through the electronic maze. I couldn't move, but luckily there was a monitor near enough for me to see the action.

There are no words for what I saw. I knew that most of this industry was planned, calculated down to the tiniest details. Each man had his own character and of course, the play's the thing. Randy slowly made his way out and before the crowd; each of his steps brought more cheers from fans whom he ignored. The quiet Randy was gone, and the effigy who replaced him was determined and murderous. There was a long walk to a chain link cage that engulfed the ring. One man was large, pale, and looked like he had crept out from under Death's robe. The other was large, healthier looking, and presented like a caged beast about ready for his dinner. I could see lips moving on the monitor, and I'm pretty sure there were some choice phrases and four letter words that were exchanged. Randy moved his neck side to side, then his eyes narrowed even further. I was fidgeting like mad; they hadn't even started yet.

I took up pacing back and forth after the first several minutes. Blows were traded, knees slammed into ring posts, and heads tossed against the fencing. It was amazing that they managed to live. And it continued thusly for what I felt was an eternity; back and forth, one ahead, then behind. I could see the wear and tear on Randy as he grasped at his shoulder, then his back, and finally his knee. Yes, I knew that usually there was a pre-determined outcome, but this was not that situation at all. And the more time Randy spent down on the mat, the more I saw anger in the Ginger's eyes. This was certainly not what I would prefer to see. My instinctive reaction was to run down the ramp. But the last time that happened I was yelled at publicly and loudly. I had no interest in that repeat episode, and thusly my pacing became finger chewing, muttering to myself, and finally, yelling at the monitor like someone could hear me.

This had to have been the longest match I've ever watched. At several points I found myself screaming, watching Randy tossing around in pain. I really hoped there wasn't an audience for me; but if there was, I was putting on a show. I had to give up and sit down in a folding chair, my head buried in my hands. I listened intently at the reactions of the crowd, and the ebbs and flows of the sounds. My last view of this monstrosity was Randy, writhing around in pain, clutching his neck for dear life, screaming in agony.

The bell sounds, almost completely lost in the sea of raucous cheers. The loud pop of Randy's music goes off, and I spring to life from my seated spot. I think that I could have out jumped a kangaroo; side note – heels are not great shoes to hop around in. After I had worn myself out, and the cheers had gone silent, I saw the curtain slide over and Randy walk through. He was swollen, and looked like he had just come back from war. I ran up to him, and touched his hand lightly. The eyes looked at me, but were blank as he mustered up a slight twitch of his lips.

"C'mon, you're done for the night, so why don't you go take a shower, and I'll get loose ends tied up with the backstage folk." He attempted to smile. The memory of his languid face, and drooping shoulders would become a picture I was familiar with for a long time…


	26. Exit Stage Left

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**Things were getting a little too predictable, so let's liven it up. Read on, and let me know what you think…**

**CHAPTER 26**

"Drea, we've lost Ted and the scripts aren't handed out yet. Any ideas?" My ear piece had been buzzing off the hook.

"Andrew," I rolled my eyes as I started into my spiel, "you know that Ted is either outside on the phone with his girlfriend at home, or he's grabbing an extra massage session. His shoulder is still a little tense. And your scripts are currently with another PA right now being passed around – creative couldn't find you to do it." When was this kid going to get the hang of being around here?

"Oh, right. Thanks."

I ran through the gaggle of Divas who were speed reading through the fresh papers. "Beth, you need to be ready for your promo shot in five – Dan is looking for you near the gorilla – and Barbie, you are going to need to see makeup about that wardrobe change." Both nodded and headed in opposite directions. I kept on my straight and narrow path.

I'd managed to last almost a year in this place, albeit, sometimes it was tough. Randy's schedule was ridiculous, and John was going to almost every show with him. I barely got home to see my Mom or Lane, but my phone usage had gone through the roof. Occasionally I got to take a short weekend trip to Randy's house, and that usually meant that I was assimilated into his little nuclear unit for dinners with parents, shopping with his sister, or games with him and the brother. Rarely do I ever get the chance to spend any time at home, but our last two weekends away at least afforded me a night with some girlfriends at a posh hotel; Randy's treat since he went out with his guys those nights. It must have been an amazing time he had, too – even I had a hard time ever being that hung over.

As Randy's time was a hot commodity, we fit in the two of us where we could. I was more amazed that I had managed to keep my foot out of my mouth for this long. I loved spending time with him – it was amazing how someone who played a ruthless jackal could be so caring and soft. I was fast becoming spoiled rotten – there were flowers, random presents, and other…perks. He was coming out of his shell, and I actually felt that he meant it whole-heartedly when he told me he trusted me. I'd finally held up my end of the bargain, and given him hope that people could really care.

I knocked softly on the locker room door before pushing it open slowly. "Randy? Honey? You are going to have to go on about 15 minutes earlier tonight – there was a change." I wandered in as he jumped slightly, and snapped his laptop shut. He had a pained smile on his face as he nodded. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Everything is fine. Where do I need to be?"

"They are waiting for your promo cut to the right of the gorilla staging. You want-" Randy rose up from his seat, past me, and out the locker room door before I could even finish my sentence. I heard my ear barking agin.

"I need a 20 on Drea; you there?" It was Stephanie. She never usually asked for me.

"Yeah, I'm online, what do you need boss?"

"Please come to my office." Her voice was low and short. I gulped hard and tore out of the room like I was being chased by a grizzly bear. My Manolo's skidded to a halt outside the door to her make-shift office. I knocked and was beckoned inside. There was an older gentleman sitting in a chair next to her, and Stephanie looked like someone had taken away her trust fund.

"Stephanie, what can I help you with?" The man stood up and held out his hand to me.

"Ms. Macklin, hello. My name is Steve, and I'm one of the lead counsels for the WWE. Pleasure to make your acquaintance." I nodded to him and slowly took the seat that Stephanie pointed to. My worry had to have been written all over my face. "Well, now. Let's not drag this out for you. One of your assigned superstars has managed to get himself into some hot water, and now, it's landed on my desk to clean it up. Stephanie thought you might need to be told about this since there is somewhat of a, uh, _a vested interest_, in this matter." Steve handed me a file jacket with some papers affixed to the inside. I opened the front flap, read the first couple pages, and then my stomach fell out of my body, off the chair, and down to the floor. I picked myself up, stumbled around to the door – muttering something about needing air and whiskey, then breaking out into a flat out run through the back halls until everything went blank.

I woke up as someone was lifting me off the floor, shouting at people to move. The voice was gruff, and I heard a door slam against a wall. The resting place where I was laid was soft, and I heard the scruntching sound of leather as I was deposited.

"Drea? Honey? Are you in there?" I knew his voice. Honestly, it was good it was him and no one else. My mind was racing and I just didn't have a lot of mental capacity for most of the people in the company right now. I slowly opened my eyes, and through the tears that came pouring out, I saw a set of bright blue eyes that relaxed when I returned their gaze. "Drea, are you okay? What is wrong babe?"

"Here," was all I could muster between body shaking sobs. I thrust the file jacket at my companion, and buried my head into his shoulder as I allowed my instability to take me over. I felt his arm flinch as the pages turned, with low whistles and grunts, before it abruptly shut and was tossed on a table. I leaned my face up, hands clinging to his bicep like it was the only thing keeping me alive in this world. "Why? What the hell am I going to do? I, I…"

"You are going to sit here, lean over on me, and have a good cry. Damn, I can't believe he would do this-" The conversation was interrupted by an unexpected visitor as Randy walked into the locker room. He knew. His face was frozen with that look of regret, sorrow, and fear.

"Drea." The moment my name left his mouth it was like someone flipped an internal switch. I clamored up off my resting place next to John, and bolted across the room. Before I could even begin to process anything, I had thrown my right hand back and flung it forward with enough force to heave my entire body towards Randy, who stood there and absorbed the blow as it connected with his eye.

"I should have known, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN! How could you? What the fuck were you thinking? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? You fucked her! You went home, you found her, and you fucked her? I was in the same town – I was less than a mile away from you! You son of a bitch!" I kept throwing my hands against his head, face, chest, arms and stomach. I started kicking his knees hard, and screaming unintelligible noises out of my own frustration and anger. He stood there and took every shout; every punch. Had I been able to look, or even care, I might have seen the tears escaping his eyes as he watched my fury coming from my pain.

John came over and grabbed me back, my legs flailing in the air towards Randy's head. "Randy, I think it's best if you go."

"Drea, I really didn't…it was a mistake…I know…" He moved forward, pleading for me to listen. I couldn't have even begun to fathom how to do that.

John set me down, positioning himself between us, specifically keeping me at bay as I jumped to shout over his shoulder. "She broke your heart, you dumb fuck! You went and found her – you looked for her! So you find Sam, and you fuck her! What of me, huh? Didn't I cross your love sick mind while you were getting some? You couldn't love me – you've been lying to me for almost a year! Tell me how you love me, and you knock her up?" John's head dropped down as the last bit left my lips, both of my arms holding me up on his shoulder, straining to get my hands around Randy's neck. My grief took over, sobs shook me as I slid down John's chest. "How could you do this to me? You got her pregnant…while you were with me. She broke you heart – I did nothing but care for you. And this is how you treat me?"

"Drea, I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to find out like this. Oh, God…" His hands dropped to his sides; he was defeated.

"I'm the one who is sorry. You are nothing to me. Forget you know me. I hate you – I will forever hate you. You are the biggest mistake of my life…go home to your child and her mother, you piece of shit." I collapsed into John's arms, and he was holding my entire form upright as I let everything go. John nodded to Randy, and I heard the door shut slowly. The lights went out.


	27. All Work and No Play

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**I'm welcoming all kinds of comments / suggestions. Pretty, pretty please? In the mean time, here is how I think Drea would handle getting over one of life's horrible little surprises…really, I think it's how everyone should handle it. Hope you enjoy!**

**CHAPTER 27**

"Drea, you in here?" Barbie poked her head into the doorway, and I could hear her voice and see the outline of her fluffed hair. "It's me and Beth, can we come in?"

My office was dark, with the small desk lamp leaving a yellow beacon across my desk. There were statute books, file jackets, and my laptop strewn everywhere. It's a good thing that Stephanie had asked me to just use her reserved spaces while she took a break from the road – I might not have had the space for this type of work. I waved the girls in.

"They still have you doing this?" Beth and Barbie had become my friends away from home. They had been the first girls John called as reinforcements the night I found all this out. I had gone back to Stephanie that same night, and out of my own loyalty to my employer, told Steve I would help with the paralegal work. It would be a ton of investigation and interviewing, reading, and drafting of documents. I spent my time buried up to my chin in law books, researching, writing, and reliving my own personal hell as a lesson to keep my nose clean and focus on the paycheck only.

"Yeah, I am. We are prepping for depositions and discovery right now. I have all of those," I pointed to two towers of loose pages in the corner, "cell records to go through in the next two days. It's texts and phone calls and numbers – I have to find out who called or said what." Both of them stole a quick glance at the other. Barbie was the first to speak.

"So, I guess you're out for tonight then, huh?"

"Afraid so. You girls go have fun. I'll-" I had been interrupted.

"Order in." They both snickered as they finished my sentence. I perked an eyebrow up at them and they both smiled before turning to leave. As my door shut behind Beth, I heaved a large sigh. Back to the grind…although, maybe they had a point. I had spent the last three months devoting my life to ignoring the issue at hand. I had yet to cope. Perhaps it was time.

I knocked gently on John's locker room door. "John?" I heard a muffled 'enter' from the other side, and found him tying up his sneakers before he looked up at me with a bright smile.

"You decided to emerge from the Dungeon? This is a new one." I smiled at him in spite of myself. He had been working his ass off to keep me smiling as much as he could. "To what, madam, do I owe this pleasure?"

"Well, I've realized that I've been neglecting my duties as your handler. That, and I think I might have had a blonde epiphany." It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at me. I made my way from the doorway to the chair open to the right of where John was sitting on the couch. "I've been working my ass off for months, and maybe it's time I stop avoiding, and start dealing. So I'm thinking of letting my hair down a little…"

John looked pensive for a moment. "I think that you may be onto something."

"How do you feel about heading out tonight? Maybe grab some food that doesn't involve tipping the bell hop, and a little dancing?" I was hoping to tempt him – if I was going to get through this there was a standard checklist of items that needed to happen. The patented 'Drea's come undone' had to come out to the play, and John was the perfect foil.

He smiled wide. "You know me – I'm always up for a little fun."

The show was uneventful, and I made it back to the hotel without incident. I straightened my hair for an eternity, wanting to keep myself distant from the curls I used to unfurl for Randy when we would go out. My locks were monstrously long now, only inches from grazing the top of my butt. The beauty in my misery was that I had dropped a good ten pounds, and I felt phenomenal about how I looked more like a diva on the roster every day. I threw on my best push-up bra, and pulled the dress from my suitcase. I knew once I put this on, I was opening pandora's box – it was the luxe green clingy dress that hugged every curve my body had, and made my rack look like I spent a fortune on them. It was the dress he had chosen. I shinnied into the dress, perking up my girls between sessions with the smoky eye kit. A little fluffing of the hair, some nude lip gloss, and a pair of stacked, platform stilettos later – I was ready to go. I grabbed my clutch, and took off out of my room to grab my evening's escort.

John answered my continuous knocking at the door, and stopped in his tracks – mouth still open, ready to read me the riot act. "Uhm, wow, hi." He looked amazed. I smirked – mission accomplished.

"You gonna make me wait out here all night, or are you going to take me out?" John attempted to mutter something, and pointed to the inside of his room. I followed him inside, and watched him hunt around for something in vain. "What is the matter, John? Honestly?"

"You just…you look…it's like a 180. I've barely seen you in anything other than a sweater or pajama pants for the past few months, and wow, it's, uh, well…" John's hand was wringing in the other one before he motioned me up and down. He took a deep breath. "You look amazing. It's almost like the old Drea is back. I like it." I smiled brightly and reached out for his hand, which he offered immediately.

"Thank you, John. That's very sweet of you. Now let's go have a little fun." I gave him a wink and grabbed his jacket that was slung over the edge of the bed.

Chicago is one hell of a town to head out in. I had talked John into letting me pick dinner – Italian Village (for the homemade canolli, of course), and we knew that a large contingent of superstars would be making appearances at Spy Bar before breaking off to keep themselves occupied after hours. The car dropped us off at the door, and I walked the step and repeat with John, who kept me tucked under his arm as the flashbulbs popped. There was some good music and a gratis table waiting for us. I ordered a bottle of Grey Goose and plenty of tonic, while John said he would just be along for my ride. This could not end well.

As more and more faces from the company showed up, things became more raucous. I was dancing around with the guys intermittently, until Mike Mizanin decided I needed to be lifted up onto his shoulders. John quietly came up and pulled me down. "And I think you're now stuck with me only. If Mike dropped you, I think you'd hate me tomorrow for him ruining that dress. I know I'd hate it if you couldn't wear it again."

I laughed hysterically as John tilted his head. "Then come dance with me, mister! I know you got a little swing in those hips!" I pulled him into the throng of people out on the floor, both of us laughing and forgetting that his every move was being watched and recorded. The music changed from some fun pop to a thundering club banger, and immediately both of us went into ghetto throw down mode. I was pulling the Jersey turnpike like it was my job, with John using his strength to elevate this evening, and myself, to new heights and throws. People stopped and started watching us – it was a Step Up moment if I've ever seen myself involved in one, and my partner in crime was just as hot as Channing Tatum. Our little play came to a close as John threw me up over his shoulder, flashing every male in the room what peeked out from the bottom of the dress, and didn't set me back down until we had returned to our table – littered with empty bottles. I grabbed my drink off the table, and drained it immediately. I motioned for another bottle, and it magically appeared. John and I took turns pulling long shots from it's crystal liquid, my courage mounting with every turn.

"John?"

"Hmm? Hey, quit hogging the sauce." He grabbed the bottle and took another swill. I instinctively grabbed it back.

"I look good right? Like, really – hiccup – good?" John nodded as he reached for the bottle again.

"I mean, you could look better, but only if you were wearing only my old football jersey. THAT would be fucking hot. The jersey and those shoes – they make your ass look like sex on a stick." God bless his lack of a filter when he drinks. I giggled at him. "What? I meant it?"

I pushed off John's chest, my face reading that I'd had the best idea of my life. "I think I should go speak my piece. It's not – hic – like me to keep so quiet. He should know. Where is that asshole at?" John pointed to a dark corner where I saw part of a face was illuminated by the glow of a cell phone screen. I took the bottle, swallowed long, and handed it back. "If I'm not back in ten minutes,"

"I'm ordering more vodka. We'll be out." That was my new bff, ladies and gents. A man after my own heart.

I stood up, fluffed my hair a little, boosted the girls back, and pulled my dress a little higher. I sent a short text and headed out to a small door leading to an outdoor smoking area. I found the hottest guy standing out there and bummed a smoke, drumming up a conversation. It felt amazing to bat my eyelashes and flash a lot of cleavage to someone who seemed pretty excited about the view. I knew my message had been received when the guys seemed more impressed with something other than my dress and the girls, and the guttural noise coming from behind me said the person making it wasn't happy I had attention to begin with.

His voice was no where what I remembered. "Drea, hi." I turned and saw a pathetic site as I took a drag from my bummed cigarette. His face was sallow, with large bags under his now dull eyes. His face was scraggly, hair about half an inch too long, and both hands were shoved into pockets of jeans that were now a size too big on his frame. I had obviously gotten the better end of this deal. "You look," Randy shifted his weight, "good. Really good."

"You look like shit." I flicked the butt of my cigarette. Have I mentioned that I grow enormous balls when I drink? I'm the dumb ass who would smack a bull in the nose wearing a red shirt if someone told me it would be fun to do.

He glanced down at the ground, kicking the toe of his shoe against the pavement. "I'm really happy and all that you are talking to me again, but why did you tell me to come out here? Other than to torture me…"

My drunk eyes narrowed. "Me? I'm torturing you? Really? I'm sorry, maybe I've taken a couple hits of acid since I started drinking – not really – but was I the person who impregnated some other bitch cheating on my girlfriend?" I had drawn a crowd. "Oh, right – that was you."

I heard his teeth grinding from three feet away. "Yes, I did. And I've tried to apologize to my _girlfriend_ about it."

"Your EX-girlfriend. It must feel really horrible to know you were getting lucky from two chicks, huh?" Our crowd was becoming a throng, and I could have sworn I saw a couple blondes that looked familiar run by me and back into the bar.

Randy's eyes became glowing slits, then he leaned back, flashing that trademark smirk. "You're right. I deserve it. I'm the one in the wrong." Huh? NO, no, no – this is not the way this is supposed to go. I had to get the upper hand again.

"Look, just know I'm not going to forgive you for this. I will forever blame you-" I was cut short by strong arms pulling me back.

"C'mon girl, we're going home. This is not your best idea ever." John was interjecting himself between us.

"Wait, John. Let her talk." Randy had his hand on John's shoulder, which caused a flash in his eyes I'd never seen before. He quickly wheeled around, tucking me directly behind his massive form.

"No, Randall, I'm not letting her talk. I'm not letting her have much of anything to do with you right now. You've got some nerve, dude. I'm your friend, but you really stepped in it this time, and the rest of us are tired of cleaning up your messes." John's tone was bitter and direct; not like my fun-loving John at all. I was a bit taken back. John was challenging Randy's claim.

Randy's look was sinister. "Oh, my messes? I doubt I'm the person here who should be the first to throw stones, John."

"Randy, don't start. I had to sit here and watch you rip her heart out. This is the first time in over three months that I've seen her so much as happy – you just can't stand that it wasn't you who was responsible for it, huh? Go find your baby mama Randy, and stop embarrassing yourself." John turned to face me, and there wasn't the slightest trace of drunkenness about him – quite unlike my unsteady self.

"You can't keep me away from her, John. I won't let you. Drea, I'm going to prove it to you – I wasn't lying. I love you." Randy was peering around my burly protector.

John stepped forward and matched Randy eye to eye, "If you loved her, you would have kept your dick in your pants and your eyes on what you already had. I'm never going to let you break her heart again. Ever." John was growling out a low, throaty warning to Randy. He turned slowly and offered his arm to me. "Drea, why don't we go back to the hotel?" I suddenly became less liquor-brave and more reality-weak. I nodded, taking his offered arm and walking away from the population of the bar that had come outside to witness the pending meltdown. I looked over my shoulder, seeing Randy still there, watching me walk away with John.


	28. Meet the Parent

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case. **

**I'm welcoming all kinds of comments / suggestions. Let me know what you think and enjoy!**

**CHAPTER 28**

_I totally wasn't used to being here by myself. I had spent so much time on the road listening to John snore, so I was not liking this silence of my room now. I needed some reinforcements – I needed my conscious._

_Hey love – you up? If so, I'm gonna unlock the door. Come by. I haven't seen you in forever and I miss your face._

My phone jingled back that I would see her in a bit. It was midnight, and I knew I could count on my Lane. Not even an hour later, she had drug her fabulous self from her comfy surroundings to the bed that I was currently holed up in at my mother's house. Without a word, she came right in and curled up next to me. Lane was that breed of friend who would answer your irrational calls at all hours, and it was always with that attitude of "who's ass is it," and never "what the hell are you doing." That's why I loved her.

I had previously kept her up to date on the unfortunate events that were my life lately, but this last little turn took the cake. I told her about my last evening out with John, and his conversation with Randy about my emotional well being. I had been sideswiped by his declaration of friendship and caring – or something like that.

"You know what I think, bitch? I think you've got a secret admirer." Lane was trying to hide her snickers behind my stuffed pig.

"I don't buy that, Lane. It's John. I don't think he has it in him to be all lovey. He's my friend."

"And being a friend is sometimes the worse place to be for a guy. He is watching you suffer, and if he cares – like I bet he does – he's wanting nothing more than to make you smile. Men _hate_ when a girl is not happy." She picked up my phone and handed it to me. "Text him. If he's just your friend, he doesn't reply right away. If he blows that phone up, he's looking to keep you away from Randy for his own reasons."

I scoffed at her. I loved Lane, but this had to be one of her less than bright ideas. "Really? So what if he's just a considerate text-er? Doesn't like to make people wait?"

She huffed slightly, so the hair around her face fluffed out. "Andrea, there are seven children in my family, and I am the only girl. If you want to know what shoes to wear with an outfit, we are not the people to turn to. Ask me what a guy thinks about – I got that shit." Perhaps she had a point, not that I would ever let her know that I had agreed with her thinking. Ever. She gloats.

I fired off a quick text message to John's cell. I knew he was home for a brief visit – our little break before the pre-holiday push had allowed everyone to take a couple days off. _Hey there Galahad, hows home?_

"Are you happy now-" She smiled as my phone sounded. "It could be someone else, you know." I flipped it open and I'm sure one side of my eyes defied my wishes, and my lips curled slightly to the side.

_So far, I've been commanded to take out the trash, pick up some beer, clean up the kitchen and listen to Dad's notes about my wrestling lately. Save me._

My fingers moved quickly across the keypad in response. _Lol – I'm sorry you're being made to work. How am I supposed to save you?_

"Fine, Lane, maybe there is some merit to what you're thinking."

"Oh, I know I'm right. He threatened his friend for you, because you had been hurt. He's into you, whether you admit it or not." This piece of information, if I chose to accept it, would change the game. I was never good at games – I usually got schooled when I did everything from Super Mario Brothers to interpersonal communication. This put me into uncharted waters. I was headed up shit creek without any paddles.

My phone sang out again. _Come hang out with me. Pop can be a little less parental when there is company. My treat._ I raised my eyebrows, causing Lane to lean over and read his reply. She barely could contain her giggles, and pointed to my clock. It was now 2:18 a.m., and I'm getting told to come from the Midwest to Massachusetts…right now. I yawned and was faced with snickers from my best friend.

"This is not a booty call! Stop it!" I shoved her over to the other side of my bed. She chuckled to herself again, grabbing my pillow and curling up with her back to me.

"Just go right ahead. Pretend I'm not here. Just you and _John_." I snickered at her softly. "I know, you hate it when I'm right." I sat there and watched her form heave back and forth as she laughed to herself. She turned her head back to me, pointing her index finger at my phone. "Well, tell him to get you a flight. We both know you're going."

"I'm not going, Lane. I can't." I slunked down further into my bed, yawning yet again. "I'm not going to fly to Massachusetts. I'm going to go to bed, and we are not discussing this further." I shut my eyes, still trying to figure out whether or not Lane was way ahead of me with this John business.

I woke up the next morning from someone prodding a well manicured finger into my side. "Aw, Lane, really?"

"Wake up, pooky, you have a flight to catch."

"What? How do you…" She flashed my open phone in front of my face, showing an open email with a flight confirmation number. I was supposed to be at the airport in about 4 hours. "Lane, why is there a flight booked? And who was texting about me in the third person?"

She shrugged. "Dunno. Someone is throwing stuff. Maybe your mom came in when you passed out last night and told him to get you the flight."

I gritted my teeth beneath a slightly twitchy lip, "Or my best friend just sold me out."

Lane hopped out of bed, went to my closet and threw open the doors. She reached in pulling out a couple of my favorite sweatshirts and a duffel bag. "Or you could just thank her for being a good friend, who is always right, when you manage to hook up with John. Let's pack you up."

Flying alone to Boston, on my way to an impending disaster, in the midst of a snow storm is not something that I would ever advise if a person hated planes, near death experiences, and being squished between a screaming child and the overly permissive parents who allowed him to sit away from them. The airport was cramped with people wall to wall trying to get back from random weekend getaways, and some lucky bastards who got the trips as gifts – or who were conned into coming out by request. I took out my phone and sent a quick message, then headed to the baggage claim. I was wondering if my ride would be here already amid this chaos, but when you see a giant group of screaming women and cheering men, I realized that my ride was not only there and probably needed an exit strategy of his own. I grabbed my bag off the conveyor belt, and then pushed through the throng of people to see the broad back of a sweats-clad man, furiously signing papers and posing for pictures. I was desperately trying to weasel my way through the melee, and had just managed to pop into the open space next to my ride.

"Hey, what's a girl got to do to get a little attention around here? Ask you to sign these?" I leaned down slightly, giving everyone a little peek.

"All you had to do was ask, darlin. How are you feeling?" John quickly leaned back, eyes twinkling, "Sorry you had to fly by yourself, I know you hate it."

"We're good." I nodded toward the doors of escape, and his eyes pleaded with me in agreement. He had wanted to do the honorable thing, not making me wait for him by myself; now, he had no exit strategy. I held up my hands to the group gathered around us as John picked up my bags. "Folks, I'm so sorry, but Mr. Cena has an appointment to get to, and it's for something very personal. I'm afraid we have to go. John?" I moved toward the people and started to part the crowd between some mothers who were extremely upset over this news, and John shrugged slightly as he rested his hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the exit. Once we cleared the doors, John started marching a little more intensely. He took out keys as we approached an Escalade, and tossed my bags in the back before coming over to open my door for me.

"Why, Mr. Cena, you might make a girl blush." I gave him a smile so wide I thought my mouth would tear in two. It had been a little while since I'd smiled like that, what with the heart ripping apart and all.

"There are just certain things you should always do for a girl." And with that, he shut my door lightly and rounded the front end to jump in the driver's seat. "So, you going to tell me what is going on? Did you really agree to come out here and spend a few days, or was that Lane?" John smirked at me sideways.

My cheeks were betraying me before I could open my mouth to respond. "I think that Lane might have believed I needed a break from so much work."

"Good thing that I could oblige then. Happy you came, though." He patted my arm, leaving his hand over my wrist for a bit before flipping around with the radio. "We should be there in a little while."

"It's okay – this place is gorgeous." I had arrived a little later in the evening from the flight, and thanks to Mother Nature, the entire east coast was already doused in a light white blanket. The houses were warm and inviting, windows lit softly and everything was tranquil. I turned my attention back to John, who was driving with one hand draped over the top of the steering wheel, humming to himself. He had a look of peace on his face; his eyes were bright. Seeing him so calm was a good influence. I had been so focused on the scenery, and my friend, I hasn't even noticed that John was slowing down.

"Well, welcome to your temporary home away from home. The Cena compound." John stated as he pulled into the driveway of a warm looking house and shifted the car to park. He jumped out, heading to the back of the Escalade to help me pack in my bags. I hopped out, and followed him to the back of the car. I was still taking in the view of the house – it was obvious that this is where a family lived. While I was evaluating the new digs, John siddled up to me and whispered softly in my ear, "I'll warn you now, whatever Pop makes, pretend it's amazing. If it sucks, we're going out for pizza when he isn't looking." I turned slightly to meet eyes with John, who had this luminously happy look all over his face, and was grinning from ear to ear. My eyes darted back and forth, staring into his icy blue orbs, looking for something I couldn't quite figure out. The longer we both stood there, looking at the other, my glare started to trail down his chiseled face to his soft lips that were slightly parted. My breath caught in my throat slightly, and right as I was about to give myself away, a loud, booming voice scared the crap out of me.

"Son, you gonna make that poor girl stand outside in an East Coast snow any longer?" John smiled wide and didn't release his gaze locked with mine.

"No, sir. We are on our way inside right now." He finally blinked and nodded for me to follow him into the house. I fell in line behind him, and walked toward the big voice I had heard. The man was large, and I suddenly felt like I was looking at an advanced age portrait of John – complete with icy, large eyes, and wide open arms. As we walked up the steps, John started snickering and nodded up to his dad's welcome gesture. "Wow, been a while since I've been met at the front steps with a hug. I haven't been gone more than six hours, but let me put down the bags first,"

John's father side-stepped John's advance with a light-hearted laugh, "Why would I want to give you a hug? I know you, and you're not pretty. C'mere girl, I'm John, senior, nice to meet you." I was pulled up into a warm hug, and it felt like I was still at home.

My face was buried in his shoulder as I tried to reply, so my answer came out very softly and muffled. "Hi sir, I'm Drea. Thanks for letting me take up space here for the time being."

John's dad leaned back, and I could finally breathe fully again. I couldn't go far though, since both of his massive hands had a vise-like grip on my shoulders. "Who's this sir you're talking about? Junior, at least she's polite," and with that nod, John sucked air in and his cheeks started turning beet red, and his dad turned his attention back to me. "There won't be any need for anything that formal, Drea. You said Drea, right? Interesting name, c'mon in and well talk about it. John, don't be an ass, get the girl's things." And I was hustled right inside the warm home.

The house looked cozy and well kept, but you could tell that there were kids here at one time. Photos adorned just about anything that would hold still, and there were boys in uniforms and various stages of life everywhere. John's dad led me into a large kitchen that was emitting an unusual smell – not that it was horrible, but I definitely thought there might be pizza in my future. I spotted one large pot on the stove, lid bouncing around as the contents boiled.

"Drea – that's such an unique name. Come," he directed me over to a breakfast bar and pulled out a chair for me, "sit down little lady. Now, Drea…"

"I know, it's short for Andrea. Too girlie for me."

"Ah, thata girl. Although, after having a house full of boys," John had just come around the corner into the kitchen when his dad had started this, and he perked up, listening, "I know what it's like to enjoy being around girls once in a while." John stopped at the pot, barely tilted the lid, and recoiled quickly.

"What, you wish we all would have been girls? Thanks. Real nice."

There was a thick, Boston accent coming back to John's speech, and his father's was all but deafening. "Nah, 'cause then I would have spent even more money than I had to on you guys. Always breaking something – no matter where we went or what we did, ol' Johnny here and his brothers could manage to split a diamond in two." With that, he wandered back over to check his boiling pot while John snuck around to pull the chair out next to mine.

He leaned over and whispered, "Pizza is probably gonna happen. He's making chow-dah." I nodded back silently, and tried to keep the snurl off my lips – I don't do clam chowder. Or chow-duh Or any variation thereof.

John climbed up onto the chair next to me, and laid his head down on his arms crossed in front of him. He looked so bothered by something, and I couldn't figure out what had him so down all of a sudden. Before I could even really think to bother him about it, his father was coming back to sit opposite of us after stirring his concoction.

"Normally, this place would be buzzing with people – the boys, their women, their kids, neighbors; now, it's all quiet. And then this one shows up." John attempted a small smile before tucking his head down further. "So you're the new one in charge of babysitting, huh?"

"Yes, I try. So far I feel like the guys have had to watch me closer than I have them, though."

John piped up quickly, "She's already saved my ass." I shot him an incredulous look, trying to remember what he was referring to. I saw John peek at me before opening his mouth to reply, "Don't you remember that whole new story idea with creative."

"Oh – OH; that wasn't anything. Just what a friend would do for another."

"What about a story idea? Convince them that he deserves a push to a title?" His father looked a little on the outside of the conversation, but I was more afraid to be the one who brought him inside the circle as the story was one of great personal importance to John.

"They wanted to do a spin and throw the divorce out there. She convinced Vince it wasn't a good idea – and he believed her. Scrapped the whole thing."

"You convinced Vince to change his mind?" Senior looked impressed. "Wow, the girl who charmed Mr. McMahon." Senior wandered back from the conversation to his cauldron.

John managed to sneak us away from the impending disaster that was Senior's creation under the guise of me wanting to see a little bit of an East Coast town. I got the tour, which consisted more of a spattering of locations where John had seen his first movie, gone on his first date – of which there were apparently many, and so on. It was all well and good, and I was very thankful for the deft escape of whatever was waiting for me in that pot, but I was still wrestling with the ideas that Lane had planted in my mind last night. John happened to stop for us to head into a small little local bar and grill for dinner when I spied the playground that was next door.

"John," I could barely get the word out without my voice drying up in my throat. I was waiting, coiled.

He turned a little, leaning over onto the arm rest slightly, "Yeah?"

"Race ya!" I threw open the car door, and hopped clear of the running boards as I jumped my start. My feet slid slightly in the snow, but I was determined to beat him out and onto the swings.

I heard him yell at me, and his door slammed shut. I could hear him thundering after me, and I tried in vain to make it to freedom. John managed to not only catch me just shy of the swings, but he picked me right up mid-stride.

"Oh, shit!" John's feet slipped out from under him as he pulled me back against his muscular chest. We both came crashing down to the ground, John serving as my pillow cushioning my fall. I heard an 'oof' before he started laughing hysterically, bouncing me off his chest and next to him into the snow.

"So, I think I win. I didn't make us fall down." I pushed off his chest and stood up next to him. He offered his hands up to mine for help up. I obliged him, and once he had risen off the ground, I felt him push me back away from the swings before he started toward them in a sprint.

"Nope! Whoever hit the swings first wins!" John grabbed the chains and sat down before I could pick myself back upright and turn around. He was kicking off, leaning back as he started forward. I couldn't hold in my laughter as I realized I'd been hanging out with the world's largest 9 year old.

"Fine. Fine. I can bow out gracefully to a cheater." I leaned on a support pole as John glided back and forth through the air. "You know I would have won, right?"

John flew out of his swing and his feet thumped hard against the frozen ground as he landed. He stood up to full height and cocked a smile at me. "Oh, I don't think so. I won."

"Good thing you won then, winner buys dinner." I walked past John and started to the tavern. I felt a massive arm snake around my shoulders, and John's face suddenly appeared to my right.

"Maybe you would have won, then…"


	29. Last Friday Night

**Disclaimer:****I****do****not****own****anything****other****than****Drea,****Lane,****and****other****OC****characters.****Unfortunately****enough,****I****don****'****t****claim****any****ownership****to****any****WWE****Superstars****or****the****WWE****itself.****I****'****m****entirely****too****poor****and****unlucky****for****that****to****be****the****case.**

**Sorry if you've been waiting for the update, oh faithful followers of Drea! Please send all complaints to my employer, lol. I'm also needing a little feedback about how Drea is letting herself run amuck, so let your voices be heard! Speak up! And in the mean time -**

**CHAPTER 29**

The tavern was local – it was easy to tell. There were kids faces adorning the walls for awards, games, and random notes written on the walls under the clippings. John nodded to a couple people as he lead us inside, and they instantly parted the waters for him. There was a large table in a back corner where we took up residence. I was getting the feeling that this may have been his usual spot when he graced them with his presence.

A slim blonde traipsed over and I heard John's voice sing out, "I'll have a beer, what about you?" John nudged me from the menu I was busy reading to order my drink.

"Oh, beer is fine with me, too. Thanks." I went back to the menu, trying to decide if I was hungry, or even capable of eating, after remembering that smell of the horrible pot simmering on the stove at John's house. I guess some fries could be safe; but I should probably make sure they didn't come covered in chow-dah.

"So this is your local spot, huh? Pretty swank." I grinned as John smiled and nodded to our beer wench, handing me my bottle.

"I've been in worse. The chow is good, the booze is plentiful, and it's close to home. Plus, there is usually-" John was interrupted by a rowdy crowd rolling through the door. A group of guys were cheering and yelling; I caught something about someone's last night of freedom. Either one of them was going to the clink or getting married; I really believe in about 75% of the situations it's the same thing.

John's voice boomed over to the new group of patrons, "Jared! Hey you jack ass!" John slide away from me to go claim the guy he knew. It was like watching a group of dogs that hadn't seen one member in a while – they lost their effing minds over the new smells. Hugs, laughter, cheers – it was all around. And then, much to my own chagrin, John told them to come on over and join us for the time being. I was immediately introduced to so many drunk assholes, I couldn't remember many names. The groom's name was Pete, and Pete was a tool. On more than one occasion, Pete attempted to discuss the finer points of _No-mah__'__s_ impact on Red Sox baseball and look down my shirt at the same time.

"Uh, Pete is it? Well, you Jimmy Fallon knock-off, if you don't keep your hands and eyes to yourself, I might have to kick your ass prior to tomorrow's festivities when you marry Rachel Dratsch and discuss the finer points of _No-mah__'__s_ game."

"Who is that?" Really, Pete? You've never seen the SNL skit that you are so desperately trying to replicate? Pete was not very bright, and I do not suffer fools very well. It was a deadly mix and could not be headed in a positive direction.

I motioned for the waitress, and told her to just start bringing shots. Hard, full-force shots. Lots of them. Then I turned back to Pete, "Nevermind, Pete. Oh, wait – shots!" This is the last coherent memory I had of the evening…

I rolled over the next morning, but was unable to open my eyes. Apparently my mascara had clumped itself in my eyelashes, which usually tells me I cried at some point in time before I fell asleep. After some work, I managed to have my fingers assist my eye muscles in prying my eyeballs back open; I should have kept them closed.

I looked around and there were bodies everywhere – it looked like the morning after at Jonestown. My head was pounding and John was snoring right next to me. I rolled a little further away from the nook of his arm where I had been resting, apparently; there were make-up marks ground into John's shirt where I had just been. There was another guy splayed out in a nearby recliner, one arm tucked up behind a face that had been drawn all over in black marker. I finally realized we were in a basement, and by the looks of the pictures hung and random memorabilia, it was at John's house. I glanced across the room, and yet another random man was curled in a little ball near a table. Before I could stop myself, I spoke a little too loudly. "What the fuck happened here last night?"

John snorted lightly as his eyes fluttered open. He leaned up and was now sitting next to me as I rubbed the side of my pounding head. "Morning Dr – oh, God, what the fuck is going on?" He started to look a little more worried and surveyed the damages. "Dude," he hit his friend snoozing in the recliner, "what the hell did you do to us last night?" His friend stirred slightly, licking his lips as he opened his eyes slowly.

"I knew that fucking stripper would lead to no good," I scooted more behind John as his friend spoke. It was Jared – the jackass. I snuggled back up against John's shoulder, whimpering softly at the pain that was eating away at my head. He immediately responded with a quick press of his lips against my head.

"You feelin' bad, killer? Don't worry – I've got you." John wrapped his arm around my shoulders and held me tight against him. I need to keep a mental note about this – I bet he might even be sweet enough to take care of me during flu season if he could stand me hung over.

"John, stupid questions – why is there half a bridal party passed out in your basement, and what stripper is he talking about?"

John decided the smart thing to do would be to wake up sleeping beauty in the corner (that just happened to be Pete's brother and best man), and then to forage for coffee upstairs. Jared and his other pseudo-fraternity brother followed John and I into the kitchen. Now, I'm normally not a coffee drinker, but I was begging for a cup to try and quiet the marching band that had taken up residence in my head. John happily obliged and handed me a large mug half-full, which I promptly filled to the brim with sugar and cream.

"So who is going to explain this to me, 'cause I have no recollection of just what happened last night." Jared was grinning, as was John, but the Best Man and myself were left out of their little inside joke. "No, seriously – what the fuck happened? One minute I'm being subjected to a torturous conversation about Boston baseball, the next I'm waking up to hear about strippers. This is a new one - even for me."

John looked at his buddy Jared, and they both busted out laughing hysterically. "Drea, my details are fuzzy at best – but I'm pretty sure we helped them celebrate."

"Helped us celebrate? It was your idea to head to the strip club, Johnny." Jared had busted him out. John flushed and laughed. I could believe it, and had snorted out laughing before I could stop myself. "Don't live it up too much girlie – we had to drag you off stage at least three different times before you were convinced you didn't work there."

"Oh, God." What the eff was my problem with hilarity and stage shows? Especially at strip clubs; you'd think I'd spent time there as a child.

"At least her tits were prettier than some of the others we saw. AND, she convinced the strippers to come hang out with us, didn't she?" John looked pensive as he spoke. My cheeks turned eight different shades of red as the night's evening was recounted, and his affection for my natural blessings was revealed. I'd heard enough – I never should have opened that Pandora's box. The conversation halted there for a good five minutes of awkward silence before I had to break it, and open my mouth again.

"Oh-kay, well we've established a great time was had by all. Ya'll saw my goods. What's say everyone who isn't taking up residence here for any amount of time vacates so that they are not late to some poor girl's idea of her happiest day ever?" Jared giggled under his breath as he smacked the Best Man, who had his head buried in his hands on the table.

"Dude, let's hit it so John and his girl can have some alone time. You know how a new couple is…" Best Man grunted and raised from his makeshift grave. I watched with steel eyes as they said their good byes to John and he walked them around the corner. I had no idea what they were talking about, but I'm sure it was some kind of random dude joke, and a really bad one at that. John came back around the corner alone, and skidded to a halt as he met my eyes.

I opened my mouth before he could give me another random look. "So, do I get let in on the inside joke there, or?" I was coming off a little more bitch than I normally would have been after such a night of fun (or so I was told that it was). Thank you mister hangover hell, so nice of you to make an appearance today.

"Whoa there, darlin. I didn't say anything-" John grabbed some cereal off the top of the fridge and brought the box back to the bar where I had taken refuge, and took a seat next to me.

"You didn't say it, no, but what were they talking about? Did I miss another event of the drunken Olympics that I participated in? Did I at least medal in this one?" I laughed softly at myself – I'm so effing funny sometimes. Humor is the best defense when you get that uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach – the bottomless hole feeling where something happened and you're just waiting for the news to drop.

"Well, I think you may have, but you weren't the only one on the podium." Watching him dive head first into that bowl was enough to turn my stomach.

"You up there with me?" I had to turn my head – watching John eat with this bad of a hang over was a retching experience. John said nothing but stuffed another spoonful of cereal in his mouth. This was an obvious attempt to keep from talking about this. "John…"

All I heard was a jumble of grunts through the chewing. I raised my eyebrow and waited. At last, he gulped. "There might be a little bit of something to be said," John instinctively shoved another mouthful of food in. Again, I was forced to wait out his mastication.

"John, please; my head hurts, I'm being filled in on bits and pieces of a night I spent out and don't remember, and now watching you eat is churning my alcohol-soaked stomach. If you know something, spill it." I heard a strange jingle coming from John's pants. He set down the bowl long enough to pull out his cell and hit some buttons. His eyes about bugged out of his head, and he looked at me, panic stricken. I pulled the phone from his hand; the sight caused me to drop my coffee a little gruffly on the table and gasp every bit of breath from my body…

'_**John**____**Cena**____**has**____**visited**____**ice**____**cream**____**parlor**____**again**__** – **__**has**____**new**____**flavor**____**of**____**the**____**month!**__'_ The video was imbedded on a dirt sheet site, and my stomach lurched – I almost lost it. Before I could stop myself, I hit the play button, and the pictures sprang to life. There was a back view of John, and you could hear him laughing hysterically. There were limbs wrapped around him, finally silenced as he turned, female attached to his face…she looked familiar. Then I noticed the deciding factor; the chick was wearing my bright yellow watch. Ohamygosh – what the hell happened?

John attempted to talk to me, and I just couldn't do it. I held up my hand as I clamored out of the chair, and almost steam rolled his dad as I ran to the nearest bathroom. I began my very loud, and violent, prayers to the porcelain god. John snuck in while I was busy trying to regurgitate my socks from my stomach, so it wasn't until I heard the snickers that I knew I had any company.

"I'm really glad you find this funny." I rested my head against my arms, breathless from my latest round of digestive pyrotechnics. "I can't believe this."

John's laughter was echoing off the walls, "I never thought I would see the day when a girl puked because she hooked up with me."

I managed to catch his eyes. He was leaning up against the sink, arms crossed and a mischievous grin across his lips. "John, I'm sor-" I buried my head again, much to his amusement. "I'm sorry. It's not so much the hook up as it is the circumstance." I was pleading with my head to keep the tears in, and my stomach to keep the remaining spec of coffee down as well.

"It's cool. Here," John grabbed some mouthwash and a tooth brush, setting it on the side of the sink and patting next to it. I begrudgingly raised my shaky body up next to his formidable frame, and started my toxic clean up. Thank you Lord for your invention of mint toothpaste and Listerine; I revel in His bounty.

"Can I go lay down now? 'Cause I don't know about you, but my head still hates me and now, I hate me too." How could I be _this_ stupid? Not only do I allow myself to be corrupted and drink away the remaining brain cells I have (all 3 of them, and am coincidentally paying the price for it now) because of Red Sox fans, I apparently thought that it would be tragic if I didn't plaster myself all over John's face. I was fast becoming the office slut – great.

I followed meekly behind John to a large, overstuffed couch in the living room. He sat down against the corner, opening a spot up for me as he reached for the remote. I could barely get over how comfortable John seemed to be with me snuggling in against his chest. It was like everything was right with the world – he calmly flipped through the channels, settling on some cartoon show, his arm enveloping my shoulder. This spot seemed like it was chiseled out specifically with me in mind.

"Drea, I can hear your brain going from here. You're really going to have to just let some shit go." Easy for him to say – he looks like a playboy, and I looked like a hooker. Great, I'm sure my mother will be super proud of me. I'm guessing he knew where I was headed when he continued, "So what that it happened? It's over and done with, and whatever. You don't see me complaining about it." John slunk down further on the couch, allowing his steel blue eyes to close and try to find rest.

My best attempts to analyze what I had found myself in were thwarted by my body's need for rest. As I closed my eyes, exhaling against John's chest, I allowed myself to entertain John's thoughts…what if this wasn't a big deal. Maybe he was right – for once.


	30. Einstein Was a Thinker, Too

**Disclaimer:****I****do****not****own****anything****other****than****Drea,****Lane,****and****other****OC****characters.****Unfortunately****enough,****I****don****'****t****claim****any****ownership****to****any****WWE****Superstars****or****the****WWE****itself.****I****'****m****entirely****too****poor****and****unlucky****for****that****to****be****the****case.**

**My jobby job has taken most of my focus lately, but I've begun to think that Drea needs a change, which means I'm working on setting things on a different course. I know this is a short chapter, but the big drop on the coaster is coming – stay tuned! And as always, keep giving those reviews!**

**CHAPTER 30**

"Yes sir, I believe it is time to have that conversation. I'll take care of it." The click of the phone was louder than I anticipated. Slowly, I rose to standing, starting out my office door as I tucked my earpiece in to listen to the production chatter. I nodded to several of the Divas as I poked my head into catering – not there. I wandered around the back of the event center in Philly like I had no idea where I was headed, then I stopped short in front of the door I'd been searching for. I knocked and entered after a gruff voice responded.

Randy lifted his head from his hands to meet my gaze, looking like he was struggling to keep any kind of a hold on a full bottle of chaos. "Yes?" His voice was dripping with venom, but I still felt myself being brought in by it.

"Randy, I've been asked to tell you that your presence is needed in a meeting later tonight with legal. We have some developments to discuss, and you will need to sign off on the terms." I tried to look calm and project that I could give a rat shit less about being in his presence, picking at my peeling fingernails. I failed. Terribly. Randy's eyes narrowed, and I felt like he was looking straight through me. He did something funny after a moment, though; he leaned back, relaxing his face and widening a smirk in my direction.

"Well, you need my presence, huh?" Randy pushed himself up from his seat, slowly rising to his full height, chest puffed out and arms twitching involuntarily. He looked so amazing – he must have been trying to exorcise his demons and anger in the gym hard lately. A person could wash their clothing against his abs. "I would be lying if I said I hadn't hoped this day would come sooner rather than later. I'm not surprised it happened, though."

As Randy approached, I began to slowly back myself to the door. I still harbored fantasies about taking out some frustration on the back of his head with my Louisville Slugger, and sure, I still hadn't wrapped my mind around how someone could ever disconnect themselves from someone they supposedly loved like he did. But he was like a drug – there was always a little desire to try it out and see where the night would take you. I was jolted back to reality as my back grazed against the closed door, and the Predator was still approaching.

"I need to get back to my desk before it's time to pass out script changes. I assume that you're okay to meet at the restaurant next the hotel, right?" I gulped as he leaned in, his hand near my shoulder and watching his lips curl upward was not a help either. He exhaled and my knees about buckled beneath me.

"Oh, I'll be there. How could I miss an opportunity to spend a night with you, baby?" Randy growled in my ear, and I couldn't stop myself from shuddering. "You are all I've been thinking about, _all__of__the__time_."

I tried to smile but my muscles were frozen. I fumbled for the handle of the door as my brain tried in vain to save me from an immediate crash and burn possibility. "Well, that's pleasant for you then I suppose. I will see you at the meeting then." I managed to pry the door open far enough for me to slide between it and the frame, and run away to the freedom of my office. I hurdled three production assistants picking up spilled tapes and nearly wiped out into a wall before I reached the friendly confines.

I threw open the door, and started to take a couple steps inside the room before becoming acutely aware that there was someone else in my office. I spun around and gasped loudly, clutching my chest. John was twiddling his thumbs with a wide grin on his face. "God! John! I know you know better than that. You scared me." He stood up, slowly coming forward to take my hand away from my chest. I watched his eyes follow his own hand, holding mine lightly in his.

"Sorry – I figured you might pay a little bit more attention to who was waiting for you in a dark office." Something was a little off about his tone. There was an edge that I had a little trouble identifying coming from John, but I got a general feeling that something was up.

"Well, you'd think that, wouldn't you? But my office really isn't-" I was cut off. John released my hand, walked over to my door, clicked the lock and flipped off the lights in one deft movement. I was blind. "Are you going to tell me ghost stories or something? I don't really have time for this you know…" Now, I will never be one to run around in the dark as a habit of fun, and I am entirely too uncoordinated to last in this room like this for very long. Good thing that I didn't have to. I felt a strong pair of hands grasp around my waist, and I was pulled back to a chiseled chest and large arms. "John? What are you doing?"

I could see nothing, but I felt John's hot breath in my ear as he whispered. "I've been thinking; lots of thinking really, and I have made a decision." What is with the men around here and thinking lately? Now this one was making a decision to confuse the shit out of me in the dark. Mission accomplished, big guy. "I think you may have been onto something good the other night."

"What are you talking about? I am _so_ confused." John's hands had me held against him; there would be no way I could have escaped if you oiled him up and attached a team of draft horses to my physical being. About the time I started wondering if he had been hit too hard during a walk through, John leaned in and went for it. His lips pressed hard against mine, but they felt feather soft. My breath was sucked from my lungs, but kissing John was like being rolled up into a velvet blanket and feeling like there is not a care in the world for yourself.

I couldn't help it – I kissed him back. It was a slippery slope for us; the more I came back, the further John pushed it. I pulled us back against my desk, and he shoved most of the items off the edge with a swipe of his hand. The only problem was there was not enough room to keep both of us suspended above the floor, and I managed to roll us off onto the ground. It finally put a halt to the hormone-driven activities.

Once again, I found myself in a heap on top of John. "Huh. Why does this always seem to be the way we end up? I think someone here has bad balance." John chuckled to himself, bouncing me up and down. "So…"

"Drea, shut up. Enjoy the moment." John pushed me back up to my feet, and I offered my hands to help him up – not sure what I was going to do if he wanted me to lift him up, though. As soon as John was on his feet, he had run across the room, flipping the switch and flooding it with light. "You are still blushing, by the way. I'll see you in a few – gotta go run an errand or two." He flashed me a smile that reddened my cheeks again before wandering out the door.

"Wait, Beth – you need a change sheet!" I tossed a copy at Beth's open hands as I was attempting to finish passing out my script changes.

"Thanks, babe. Uh, did you lose a button on that dress?" Beth had leaned in to inspect my shirt dress, and pointed my attention to the obvious missing button on the tail end of the dress.

"Well, uh, yeah, I guess I did." I couldn't help smiling at her, and of course, Beth was on it like a pack of dogs on a single cat.

"How exactly does one lose those buttons?" I shrugged. She didn't buy it. "Fess up. What happened?"

About that time, John strolled past me, grabbed a change sheet as he pulled back and smacked me on the ass so hard the crack of his hand echoed in the back room. I yelped, and Beth nodded.

"That was totally unrelated." Yeah, I hadn't even convinced myself, let alone Beth. She arched her eyebrows at me, and I gave up, hanging my head in shame. "It's maybe, perhaps, possibly, totally related."

"You sure you know what you're doing?" Beth looked legitimately concerned; I loved it when I got confirmation that there were other people intent on helping me to stay out of trouble. I could use all the assistance I could get.

"I'm not really sure what I'm doing anymore, Beth. I'm just heading along for the ride – maybe enjoying some fringe perks. Maybe." I smirked slightly. Beth laughed lightly at my qualifier. I had to laugh at myself – this was a new one, even for me. _I__'__m__enjoying__the__ride?__Wow,__double__entendre_.

"Look, I'm in no position to judge Drea, and I have my plate full as it is. But, do you think it's wise to continue to date talent? If you don't watch it, you'll be on the bill. Vince loves nothing more than stirring up shit – so just make sure you're okay with being a possible target if you stay hooked to the golden boy." Hmm, I had not thought about that one. This is perhaps a good, valid point, and something I should discuss with the man who just left his hand imprinted on my ass.

"You could be right – I hadn't really thought about it that way. You make an interesting argument." Me? Instant fodder for another creative debacle? While I realized that I have no sense of self preservation, I did not stop to even think that this could end up worse than the time I was caught screaming obscenities on national television coverage of a basketball game. Eek.

After the event, I found a large, hulk of man leaned over the trainer's table, looking like he had run a marathon. I walked up behind him, tracing my hand along his shoulder as I stopped next to him.

"Hey, you did good tonight. How you feeling?" John gave an easy smile as he turned to look at me. His eyes sparkled bright and I could have collapsed right there – he is gorgeous. I readily admit that I'm somewhat of a Midwestern Jersey Shore character, and at that moment, John was just one guido flex away from my asking him if he would like to smush.

"I'm okay. Nothing a hot shower, some dinner, and maybe a shoulder rub couldn't fix. You got plans tonight?" John and I wandered out to the parking lot toward his rental.

"I'm guessing that my time is monopolized giving some muscle-bound dude a shoulder massage." I grinned at John over the roof of the car before I slid into my seat. He gave me a quick wink in return. "Oh, and, apparently, I have to meet with Randy tonight. Briefly. I have to go over some stuff with him for legal." I recoiled to the passenger door the moment that the words left my mouth. I was hoping that the quick delivery might glance the blow past John's attention, but then I came to a realization then overridden by fear. John wouldn't hurt a woman, would he? I mean, I might be able to get one good defensive hit in if need be – he is driving. But he wouldn't really hit a girl, right? I peeked out the corner of my barely open eye, covered behind my hands that I had thrown up in a lame defensive effort.

John was staring straight ahead, hands grasping the wheel and gear shift loosely. "Why are you having this meeting with him? And just why are you curled up like that?" I put down my hands slowly and folded them down in my lap. Perhaps I did look a little foolish.

"I was asked to meet with him for a little bit and explain the proposed resolution. I don't know why I have to do it – it really should be the lawyer doing this, but I guess I was more convenient. And," I turned to John and covered his hand on the gear shift with my own, "I can definitely find some time to do you a solid if you need me to." I smiled, hoping the offering would be good enough for him.

It was obvious that John was too tired to deal with much at this point, since he rolled his head around, smirking at me, and asked, "Does that mean you'll do it topless, sugar tits?"


	31. To the Rescue

**Disclaimer:****I****do****not****own****anything****other****than****Drea,****Lane,****and****other****OC****characters.****Unfortunately****enough,****I****don****'****t****claim****any****ownership****to****any****WWE****Superstars****or****the****WWE****itself.****I****'****m****entirely****too****poor****and****unlucky****for****that****to****be****the****case.**

**Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing and reading – I love and appreciate the feedback. I know there was a question about how the Drea and John idea was working out, but I knew I had to give it a real feel – ever hang out with someone and not know if anything was "official"? Hopefully the new adventures of an old Drea can keep everyone entertained. Let me know!**

**CHAPTER 31**

"So, tell me, are you the main course tonight? Hope so, because I…am…_ravenous_." I wanted to appear repulsed by the nauseating line he had chosen to open with. That's the best game he could choose to run on me? He could have at least come wearing a leisure suit, so I knew he was going to use some pathetic material from about the same era. I tried this, but just couldn't do it when the words rolled out with his voice sounding like sex on a stick – if other men could just bottle Randy's voice and give the object of their affection a little bit, people would be getting laid a lot more often. I took a long look upward at Randy, not even offering to leave my chair to greet his arrival.

"Take a seat. I've got to give you some particulars and get the hell out. I have somewhere to be, and someone is expecting me." Randy slunk down in a chair across from me, leaning back.

"But I'm right here, baby. No one else more important than all this," he waved his hands down his chest and stomach, resting on his crotch, "and I'm here, ready to go when you are."

Oh, fuck my life. I'm pretty sure I threw up in my mouth a little. Swing and a miss, strike two. I stared; anxious to start before he could throw any more smarmy lines my way. He motioned for me to lay things out; how considerate of him. Good to know that he hadn't lost most of that dickhead charm that was his trademark. "Legal has reached a tentative agreement with Samantha's lawyer for support. You're going to be responsible for supplying her with this figure monthly," I slid a sheet of paper across the table in front of him, "as well as covering health insurance premiums. Assorted incidental costs will be shared at 50% pro rata share per parent beyond that. There is to be a joint agreement in terms of all decisions concerning the child – like schools, and you will schedule all visitation with Samantha, who is required to make the child available for all visits pursuant to your schedule. Sound good to you? Sign here." I slid another piece of paper to Randy, and crossed my arms.

"Now hold on just a second. She's getting _HOW_ much of my money?" Randy had growled at me before he even picked up the second document that was laying in front of him.

"Wow, you're not a douche bag or anything. That's your first question?"

"Well, shit – if I was a bus boy, there is no way this would work. How the fuck is it I'm going to shell this out? I've paid less for mortgages before!" I'd never seen Randy look quite so awake. Perhaps the more proper term is bugged out of his ever-loving mind. I allowed the view to sink in, and suddenly, my own indignation bubbled up about the whole point of his rant.

"Maybe you should have thought about all of this before you whipped your dick out of your pants that night. I can't believe you're worried about the amount of money you're paying to support a child that's yours! The child that you fathered while cheating on me?" I kicked the table leg, sending my pointy-toed shoe into one of Randy's shins. I tried to suppress my own smile as he grabbed his leg, muttering under his breath. Asshole got at least a little of what he deserved. Jerkface.

His eyes were narrowed to less than slits, and suddenly, my face felt like it was on fire. "Whether or not you believe me, this is a little new to me. I didn't realize one mistake would lead to this much empty space in my bank account." Randy grabbed the pen I offered, and signed his name on the line. "One fuck up. And I don't even remember the sex as memorable. Great fucking times." He threw himself against the back of the chair, running his hands through the buzzed hair.

"Yeah, you're really not helping yourself, asshole. You sit here bitching about not remembering how you fucked some random bitch, knocked her up, and now you're expecting for me to sit here and commiserate with you? You're fucking outside of your mind." I snatched the signed paperwork from in front of him, my anger rising back up. I heard my cell phone jingle, but I could focus on nothing other than my own raw indignation with Randy. Just who the hell did he think he was? Really, asshole? You want your ex-girlfriend, who you were dating at the time of your indiscretion, to agree that this chick just has to be some random gold digger out to spoil St. Randy's day.

"You have no fucking clue what you're bitching about, princess. Maybe you should shut your mouth before you say something a little much. This is my life we're discussing, my money, and my future – not yours. It's really easy to sit in judgment when you're not the person living it!" Randy stood up quickly, towering over me. It sort of pissed me off as to why it was okay for him to lash out at everyone else when he fucked up.

"I DID LIVE WITH IT! YOU CHEATED ON ME, BASTARD!" I stood, grabbing up the paperwork on the table and stuffing it into my bag. I pointed a finger directly between those two icy eyes staring back at me. "You are such a fucking asshole – I cannot even believe that you're more worried about your money that the wreckage that Hurricane Randy leaves in his path. I am done with this conversation, and done with you. Every time I talk to you it becomes more and more apparent that you have no feelings, whatsoever, for anyone you hurt. Thanks for ripping my fucking heart out of my chest! Go fuck yourself." I kept muttering to myself as I turned to grab my purse.

I stormed out of the restaurant with Randy hot on my heels. Literally. He about tripped me at least three times before I made my way out into the hallway back to the hotel. Randy reached out and grabbed my shoulder with his massive hand, spinning me around to face him. There was no time to react – he had encased me with those arms, pulling me to his chest despite my best efforts. Ever try to pull something from a vice? I was afraid of being crushed to death. No sooner had I thought about my possible escape routes, Randy turned my face up to his and pushed his lips against mine. He was pressing me further while I was desperately trying to push him away.

I finally succeeded in shoving him away and gasped loudly, trying to get a full breath in. Randy kept his eyes on mine, dancing back and forth quickly, but then darted them away to something apparently behind me. He shoved me over, dropping me to my hands and knees on the ground with a loud thud (and several choice words under my breath), just in time to see a large arm go flying directly at his face. For people who don't know, the sound that a fist makes when it connects with someone's eye socket is enough to churn anyone's stomach. Randy took the blow, full on, and John pulled his arm back before offering it back to me for assistance up from my resting place.

"John, what the fuck did you do?" Randy was hunched over, holding one hand over the right side of his face. The look on John's face read of anger, distress, hurt, and hatred all at once. I took his hand, pulling myself up next to his heaving frame.

"What I should have done months ago. God, that felt fucking amazing!" John's lips twisted into a maniacal smile. "Maybe next time, someone will learn when he should stop fucking around before he gets himself into trouble. Not everything is his in this world; especially not you, Drea." Well I guess that's good – I don't belong to Randy, but I was slightly confused. Was John implying I belonged to him? Did he pee on my shoes when I wasn't looking?

Randy was apparently just as confused as I was. He leaned up, "She doesn't belong to anyone; me or you, asshole." Randy attempted to give me the puppy eye with his single remaining non-swollen orb.

"Wrong-o, douche bag. She's mine. C'mon, Drea." John took my hand in his, with a soft, kind look in his eyes as he kissed the back of my hand. "Why don't you let me buy my girlfriend a nice dinner and a glass of wine." I started to walk away, tucked under John's enormous arm, but apparently, he had not said enough. "If you ever pull anything like this again, I will beat your ass within an inch of your life. You fucked up, deal with it, and leave Drea be." They stared at each other for a moment, and I made a point to make sure the carpet didn't move. John started moving toward the elevators again, and I went right along with him without so much as a sideways glance to Randy.

"John, I really think we need to have a small conversation about this, don't you?" I was wandering into the dark hotel room, flopping my bag down on what I hoped was the bed before stepping out of my heels. I love you Michael Kors, but my Lord if you think that every girl can wear pointy toe heels for hours on end. Being friends with Heidi Klum has spoiled you.

"I figured you would. Heaven forbid you just accept something and go with it – I knew that isn't going to happen." John flipped the light switch, bathing the room in a bright glow. Apparently, I had managed to hit the bed with my bag – go me!

"I don't really think this is something that you just let go, John. This is a little bit of biggie, wouldn't you say? You said I was yours."

"So? You are…mine. I figure it's been that way unofficially, why shouldn't he be the first to know officially? No reason to consider that fucktard's feelings." John fiddled with the bottom of his shirt as I found my way into the bathroom to make a quick costume change. I thought carefully about what John said for a moment.

John and I had been accumulating a lot of time spent together lately, ever since our little eventful weekend at the Cena compound. We usually roomed together, and it was pretty well assumed that no matter the intent, one of us would feel the need for someone to sleep next to, so there was that nightly ritual of snuggling and cover theft (don't let him fool you, John was worse than trying to sleep next to a 3 year old kid if he was tired enough). While I set up travel for a lot of the guys as I had before, Randy had secluded himself and made it a point to find others to bunk with and keep company. John had become my biggest distraction lately, and it was kind of comforting to know that no matter what my mood might be for most of the day, I had someone who would try to cheer me up and care about what was making me less than enthused.

I couldn't argue with the fact that the man is gorgeous, either. How often does any girl – who isn't ScarJo or Christina Hendricks – get a guy this choice? He could move your furniture, tell you jokes while doing it, and was caring enough to clean your house, cook dinner, and offer you a massage after all of it. And his arms…those drool-inducing biceps, then the abs…mm-hmm. Refocus.

This package wanted me. John chose me. I felt like a fat kid who just got told he could eat his way through the bakery display. I came back out, sliding on my flip flops and sliding my jeans back down over my feet. John was seated, remote on his leg, watching some random television show. I cleared my throat as I pulled my sweatshirt over my head.

"Well, you ready? I'm good to go." I grabbed my purse from the chair, smiling at John as he rose off the bed.

"Alright then, let's go. What would you like to eat tonight?" John held the door open for me as I walked out into the hallway. As he let the door shut to our room, I placed my hand in his and grinned.

"Whatever you want. I'll defer to my man tonight." John looked at me sideways with a smirk, then pulled me to him, leaning down enough for his lips to meet mine briefly. I could feel the smirk widen to a smile at that moment, before he ever pulled back.

"Alright then, sugar tits, let's go grab a drink and get my girl some dinner." And that was that – I guess I had jumped out of the pot to land in the frying pan; at least I was in there with someone hot. John's hand enveloped mine, pulling me under his arm as we wandered away.


	32. The Game's Afoot

**Disclaimer:****I****do****not****own****anything****other****than****Drea,****Lane,****and****other****OC****characters.****Unfortunately****enough,****I****don****'****t****claim****any****ownership****to****any****WWE****Superstars****or****the****WWE****itself.****I****'****m****entirely****too****poor****and****unlucky****for****that****to****be****the****case.**

**Thanks****to****everyone****for****the****reviews**** – ****keep****them****up!****I****'****m****working****slowly,****but****surely,****to****take****Drea****to****the****next****adventure.****I****really****appreciate****feedback,****so****let****me****know****what****you****think!**

**CHAPTER 32**

I pulled my phone from my pocket, eagerly awaiting the text from Lane saying she was on her way. Lately, I'd had zero time for myself as the planning for the Wrestlmania and Hall of Fame events this year had hit fever pitch. I had been pulled in twenty different directions to help where I could with the coordination of talent for live events leading up to the Big Show. I was handling calendars, events, scheduling, meetings with creative for scripting (which I found odd why they suddenly wanted my imput) and their changes with distribution, invitations for the selective after party for the Induction, and anything else that mattered to the talent. I would have never even seen John had it not been for the random locker room meeting and sleeping in the same bed at night.

After watching me unable to keep up with myself for such a long time, John had gone behind my back and gotten an extra invitation to the Induction festivities, then made arrangements with Lane to fly out. I cried for a half hour at the sweetness of his gesture, to which he laughed his ass off in return. At least he was laughing while hugging me, so at least there was that little show of solidarity. It was at that exact moment that I realized that I had succumbed to the stress of the last six months. That, and John was getting entirely too much enjoyment out of my own little mini-break down.

My phone buzzed in my hand, causing me to jump. I checked her message. _I__'__m__here,__bitch!__What__room__are__you__in?_ I was almost too giddy to type back, but managed to tell her the room number to come find me. I instantly ran into the bathroom where John was taking his morning shower, threw back the curtain and shrieked at my full blast volume. "OHMYGOD, ohmygod! She's here! AAAAHHHHHH! Hurry up!"

John jerked back, pulling one knee up in front of him in a defensive position, clutching his chest in a small gasp. "Jesus, Drea – you scared the shit out of me!" It looked like the Heisman trophy was scared of me at that exact moment.

"Well, hurry up! The reason for my existence is here! You have never officially met Lane, and you need to hurry up! C'monyougottomeetherandIknowyou'rejustgoingtoloveher, hurryup!" It was as if someone had spiked my morning juice with crack; it's a hell of a drug. I've known meth addicts who were less jumpy that I was.

I heard a loud banging on the suite door, and took off towards it before John could even begin to process a reply to my hyperactive rant. I skidded around the corner of the bathroom, and hurtled myself toward the door, flinging it open and screaming loudly. Lane returned the favor, dropping her bag and opening her arms to me. I pulled on her so hard I almost threw both of us backwards into the suite, laughing the whole way.

"Uh, okay, punkin – can I come in or do I have to stay out here?" Lane almost whispered – it sounded like she was out of breath.

"Lane, what's wrong? You sound like you can't breathe; you okay?" I kept my head down, arms wrapped around her tightly. I was so insanely happy to the Tonto to my Lone Ranger here with me. John had gone above and beyond the call of duty on this one. He deserved a major reward to express my gratitude.

"Well, you're kind of strangling the breath out of my body. Let go!" I smiled and released my grip. She took a long breath before following me inside the room. John came out of the bathroom to meet us, smiling wide.

"Lane, it's so nice to meet you finally." He opened his arms wide for her. She gave me a sideways smile before accepting his hug.

"Had I known I would have gotten this kind of reception, I probably would have come around sooner. John boy," Lane leaned back, patting her hands on John's arms as he backed away, "thanks for the help. I appreciate it." John nodded to Lane as he dutifully picked up her bag and brought it into her room in the suite. "Now, what are we doing today? I'm expecting to be entertained, you know."

I rolled my eyes as John kept his head down. "Funny you should remind me – I've got a pretty jammed schedule. I figured you would be bumming around with me and maybe hang out a bit with John this morning…"

John stopped and looked from me, to Lane, then back to me again. He smiled weakly to us both, then continued his arduous trek back to the bathroom to finish his morning preparations.

Lane smirked at John as he walked away. "Will John be wearing a shirt this time? I'm totally for it either way, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't appreciate the scenery." I raised my eyebrow at Lane's comment, garnering a shrug from her in return. "What? You're boyfriend is fucking hot, Drea. You're a hot one, John!" Lane leaned forward to make sure her comment hit the mark.

"Thank you Lane, not so bad yourself, sweet cheeks!" I threw up my hands at both of them. I knew better – Lane had no filter and usually you knew what she thought within about thirty seconds of her meeting you. John seemed to handle her well, at least so far. I did know one thing; they would never be allowed to go out drinking together without proper supervision.

"Lane, let's go. John, you ready yet?" I did my rounds of the room, grabbing my bag, purse, keys, wallets, and my best friend. John bounded out of the bathroom, threw his hood up on his sweatshirt as he grabbed his duffel bag, and smiled brightly. Lane and John started poking, then shoving, each other as we walked to the elevators. "This can lead to no good. Mark my words."

"This is Drea – all script changes have been handed out, talent is in prep rooms right now, and the producers are taking over. We're in the clear. I'm going to be in John's locker room if anyone needs me." I held my mike wire in front of my mouth as I spoke, waiting to hear the confirmation come from the main PA that I had been acknowledged.

"Got it, Drea. Keep your ear on – there might be some last minute details that could affect the main event per creative, but you're good for now." I walked to John's assigned room, and pushed the door open. I saw a mess of popcorn on the floor, with John at one end of the couch and Lane at the other. Both turned to face me with giant grins on their faces.

"Hiya puddin', whatcha doin?" Lane popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth quickly, moving her legs so that I could sit down. "You done with stuff yet?" I couldn't help but smile back at my best friend, who apparently had reverted to a ten year old.

"I'm pretty well done, that is until your buddy here," I leaned over to John for a quick smootch, "has his match. Creative said to be on the lookout, there could be additional changes. After he is done, we're clear. What do you want to do tonight?" John grabbed my hand, kissing it again as he winked at me.

"How about we go out? Hit the town a little, have a cocktail or two – you know, start a fire in someone's pants." Lane was her same calm, cool, and collected self.

"This is not going to be one of those nights that ends with me making friends with police to get you out of a ticket, right? I'm still getting texts from some random cop from Florida."

Lane snorted loudly, "Uh huh, you are worried about me? I've seen your name everywhere lately – you're famous, honey. I'm just little old Lane, foil to so many of your adventures." With that, she leaned her head back, rolling off the couch. "Right now, I'm going to see how much trouble I can get into with this pass thingy." Before I could utter my warning, Lane was out the door, leaving John and I alone.

I leaned over onto John's chest, snuggling into him. "You sure you knew what you were doing when you invited her for this? You realize that having me and her in the same place, then adding some kind of event that offers booze is like mixing nitrogen and glycerin – there's usually a big boom."

John smiled as he engulfed me in his massive arms against his chest, "Oh, I'm sure I can handle it. And it's all worth it to see that smile back on your face. I love to see that smile." John kissed the top of my forehead as I gazed into his eyes, wishing suddenly that I had unlimited time before his match and a better lock on the door. Unfortunately, our moment was interrupted via a loud knock on the door.

"Come in!" John leaned up slightly, causing me to go back to my fully proper sitting position. One of the new assistants came into John's room, intently listening to his walkie.

"I'm sorry for the bother, Mr. Cena, but Vince and Creative would like to see you in the conference room." John looked at me, just as clueless as I was at the moment. My ear piece was still in, and I had told everyone where I was – why did they send someone when I was right here and they knew it?

"What's going on? I told everyone I was here, so why not just buzz me?"

"There has been a last second change by Creative. Mr. Cena? You ready to go meet them?" John stood up and headed to the door where the assistant was waiting. I got up and trailed right behind him, but the assistant stopped me. "Ms. Macklin, you're needed in prep – makeup is waiting then wardrobe should be ready for you." John turned to look at me as I returned his surprised expression. Only talent who went out in front of the crowd and cameras needed to hit prep. Why was I supposed to go in there? I gave up when I realized that our guide was waiting and watching for my reaction.

"I'll go figure out my end, keep me posted on yours?" John nodded as he disappeared out the door and around the corner. I turned to the assistant, "Well? Let's go then."

I heard John before I saw him. There was a long stream of obscenities spewing out of his mouth as his voice gained volume. I suddenly felt really self-conscious about the visual he was about to see. Our costume mistress insisted that I wear some outfit that looked like the smallest amount of clothing I've seen on anyone trying to dress up like a slutty 1920's era gangster – I was in pinstriped boy shorts with a cropped pinstriped jacket, and what could have been a tasteful white button-down shirt, had it not been three sizes too small. The bra she selected had my girls forced so far you'd have thought they were being held up by invisible wires from the ceiling. And don't even get me started on the shoes – I love all shoes, but these were misshapen horrible excuses for shoes. I could barely teeter to makeup. By the time they were done with me, I looked like a hooker who may have gotten her massage therapist license, including stringy hair extensions.

John stopped in his loud-cursing tracks when he caught that first glimpse of me standing (read: attempting to stand) at the gorilla. "Oh my fucking Lord."

I started to uncross my arms and nervously rub my palms together. "Yeah, that bad, huh?" John was slow and deliberate in his gaze up and down my body, trying in vain to keep the smirk off his face.

"Well, I don't think it's bad at all really. You look like one of the girls…" John's face contorted in thought, his eyebrows arching as his mind ran overtime and came to the conclusion. "Why do you look like one of the girls? Has Creative gotten back to you yet?"

"No, but I expect-" I was interrupted by a PA thrusting a script change packet into my face. "What the hell? Why am I getting this change sheet? I'm not even camera talent?"

John was speed reading through his change sheets, and was the first to speak. "MOTHER FUCKER! There is no way in hell!" He turned on a dime and took off back toward the Creative office. I struggled to keep up after him in the ridiculous shoes that had been assigned to me for the night. I felt like Peggy Bundy trying in vain to keep up with her husband, who was stomping like a raging bull down the hall; I had to fight my sudden urge to scream 'Al' down the hall after John.

"Just what the fuck do you all think you're doing? Huh?" John had gone crashing through the door to the make-shift conference room, scaring the shit out of about 15 different people inside. I skidded to a stop in the doorway in time to see his mouth open wide to begin the tirade, and watch a large, male figure turn to face him.

"I beg your pardon, John? Is there a problem?" Vince turned to John's heaving frame, hand in his pocket. John's face was beet red, and there was his signature veins sticking out of his neck. I hadn't even had the chance to finish reading the script changes before John had stormed down the hall, so I took the lull to scan over what the papers even contained. _Okay,__Cena__to__ring__to__talk__about__how__people__need__to__learn__respect;__blah,__blah,__blah.__Orton__comes__out__to__challenge__Cena__about__how__he__manages__to__win__so__much__and__skip__up__spots__for__title__shots__ – __there__has__to__be__some__reason;__yadda__yadda.__Enter__Drea,__wait__ – __enter__me?_

I had word vomit as soon as I processed the last sentence I read, and wandered between John and Vince, who were arguing over something – I quit paying attention to the men folk about 5 minutes ago. "Boys, I'm so sorry to break up whatever pissing contest you're currently embroiled in, but why is my name in here?" I shook the papers hard in both John's and Vince's faces. "And just why does it say I'm entering? Did someone in here take a hardcore shot to the head?" I was so on edge I had totally forgotten who else was involved in this discussion, and both John and Vince looked slightly surprised at my outburst.

"John," Vince turned to me, almost amused, "Drea, remember when we last spoke about Creative's use of John's personal life? And just how it made no sense to have the divorce replayed in public? I think that Creative has found a way to build in a little intrigue into our latest line for John, and you," Vince seemed to be taking particular pleasure in pointing his finger at me, "are going to help."

"Vince, this is bullshit, and you know it." John was apparently trying to softly nudge me to the side, but due to his freakish strength and lack of knowledge about that fact meant he shoved me to the side. I barely was able to keep myself upright on the dizzyingly high heels – thanks to the proximity of a random Creative drone. John did not even notice, but kept right on rolling with Vince. "You wouldn't be doing this if someone hadn't given you the fucking idea, and I know who it was. Fuck him, and fuck you too if you think I'm going to allow this to happen. I'm not risking her safety out there – she doesn't even know anything about how to pull off a single maneuver! You're sending her out to the ring with him there too? Do I even need to remind you of the Kiebler incident?"

For some odd reason, that last one really hit home for Vince. His face went from calm and safe to crimson and mad enough to spit nails in about a second. I saw spittle shoot out from his mouth as he screamed, not spoke, back at John. "Now listen here you son of a bitch, I cut you a break the last time because that one over there was smarter than you. Hell, she seems to be smarter than a lot of people, but she was dumb enough to hang around with you, John, and guess what? You sell, and I need a seller right now. I don't give a fuck what you have to say on it, it's either this one or the divorce – you pick right now, asshole!"

"Hey! Both of you!" I was feebly hopping up and down, throwing my arms up with all my might. "Does someone want to let me in on just what the fuck is happening here? Why the fuck am I dressed like a streetwalker, and just why the hell do I have to go out on camera?" There was a snicker that emerged from behind a computer screen as I took a breath. I turned, just as John and Vince did, to face the location of the dumb enough to do this out loud. "You! Jerk off! What the fuck?"

The Creative nerd pushed his hipster glasses back up on his greasy nose before snorting at me. "Well, if you must know, it seems that the recent rumblings of the fans just love that John has someone making him happy – i.e. you,"

I threw my hands on my hips as a matter of fact. "Really? You mean it's not some random Singapore hooker?"

"Could be that, too, but I digress. John being happy is puling in the female audience more, and so, we were instructed to write you in. You're going to play John's lucky charm in this little game, so buckle up sweetheart."

"What game?" I turned my attention back to the rumpled paper in my hand. In my haste, I guess I hadn't finished the actual reading of the script. I hit the point; it had to be what the nerd was talking about . "Oh, fuck my ever-loving life." I smacked my free hand to my forehead. "You all will have a special place in Hell for this – mark my words."


	33. Pop Heard 'Round the World

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case.**

**Thanks to everyone for the reviews – keep them up! I'm working slowly, but surely, to take Drea to the next adventure. I really appreciate feedback, so let me know what you think!**

**CHAPTER 33**

The crowd had popped so loudly, his music was barely audible, but they went silent as the microphone graced his lips.

"John, John, oh John." Randy sauntered down the ramp slowly as John started pacing inside the ring, mic clutched in his hand. "I would say that I was surprised to hear your voice, down here inside my ring, bitching about how you lost. Wah, wah, wah. But I'm not surprised, and neither is anyone else. You're simply a bitch, and that is what bitches do."

Randy had reached the stairs to the ring, and was slowly climbing over the ropes, coming face to face with John. "I find it so very funny that you can come out here, week after week, always complaining about what someone took from you and how you've been wronged." Randy leaned back on the ring post, smirking almost manically. "Here he is, the poster child for this company, and resident goody-two-shoes. Mr. Kiss Ass. Supposedly does everything by the books, and doesn't get help from anyone else;" he turned his back on John, and the smirk grew wider, "but I know your dirty little secret, and I bet these fans would love to know it, too."

"You come down here to insult me, okay, but what are you talking about now? There is no secret – I keep nothing from these fans! I leave everything I have out here – in my ring, and you have the balls to come out here and talk about secrets? I don't keep secrets, Randall. People like you do – and then they tend to come smack you in the face with court papers." John's face was resolute; his jaw was set, and the look in his eyes was challenging Randy to open his mouth further. Even though the story had already been decided and scripted, each man was daring the other to step a toe out of line.

About that time was when I realized that I was being herded toward the thin cloth that was keeping me hidden, whether I like it or not. A random Pitbull song, replete with super bass, blared over the sound system, and I huffed out the breath I'd been holding for the last hour and a half. My life was over as I knew it from this point on. "Please, dear God, don't let me fall down in these ridiculous shoes."

There were cat calls and boos, but most of the crowd didn't know me from Eve (Torres or the Biblical one), so stunned faces were the predominant view. I slowly teetered down to the ring stairs, terrified look all over my face and everything. Randy had kept his spot, leaned up against the ring post, smirk out in full force. I know I looked like a scared little girl about to walk into her first haunted house where the clowns were just waiting for her by the door. Had I not been wearing these shoes or this outfit, I might have run back from whence I came – but with them on, I couldn't if I wanted to.

"John, you know her, don't you? Drea. Come on in to my ring, baby." Randy kicked his foot on the lowest rope and pushed it down. I looked to John quickly, and he gave a minor nod. I climbed the stairs, bowing to enter between the space of the ropes. Someone thrust a mic in my hand, and I started to walk toward John. I was going from Hell over to Heaven, and somehow got stuck in Purgatory.

"Now, wait just a second here, Drea. Now, I know what is going on here, but all these people may want to be brought into the loop." I froze abruptly; my eyes were pleading with John to help me out.

"Orton, stop it. She shouldn't be out here. Drea, come on over here." John reached his hand out to me, and I started to him.

"No, John – she is fine. Drea, introduce yourself, or I will do it for you." Randy had walked away from the post, and was now standing immediately behind me.

I raised my microphone to my lips. "Well, my name is Drea. There you go."

"No, no, no. That's not all. Tell everyone what it is you do." John was mutter curses under his breath at Randy, who was poking me in the back with his microphone.

"I work with the talent here at the WWE, Randy. You know that. Why don't you just grow a set and get to the point. I'm pretty sure we're all tired of these mind games you trying to play – you don't have the required equipment to compete." I turned and came face to face with him. I hardened my eyes and tried to bore a hole in his forehead. John snorted with laughter, and Randy looked like someone just came out in front of him with two heads.

"There's my girl." His smirk returned. "Everyone here who can make sure her boyfriend gets as many title shots as he wants, raise your hand." I looked from Randy to John, and back again. "Why, Drea, you didn't hold up your hand. You must have not heard me." He leaned in, nose to nose with me. "You should raise your hand and tell every one of these people that no matter how many times Cena loses, gets beat up, or generally sucks at life, you get him another chance."

"But I don't. John writes his own path here. I can't get people a title shot, Randy, and you know it."

"Orton, leave her alone. You know this is crap. Drea," I started backing away from Randy, reaching a hand back for John's. He walked forward – I felt him brush against my back. Instantly, it was like I gained the confidence and swagger of 20 Marines on shore leave.

"He is just jealous, John. He has to find someone to blame for his failures. We all know you work for your chances, they aren't just handed to you."

"How cute, you two are keeping with each other company in your little dream world." Randy began walking away from John and myself before speaking again. "I'll tell you what, John boy. I'm a betting-type of guy…how about we make a little wager? We can make Wrestlemania a little bit more interesting."

John whispered in my ear, "Here it comes. Just do what you can and let us do the rest. Pretend you're really pissed at me when it's all done." And with that, John pushed past me to speak to Randy. "Bet what? I'm willing to bet that you couldn't spell the word honest without a dictionary and someone giving you the first 5 letters, but I'll bite. What are you talking about, Orton?"

I watched from the sideline when Randy swung his head around to me, eyes narrowed and teeth visible through his clinched smirk. "Funny, Cena. Glad to know that clowns come in all shapes and sizes, but that's not what I'm talking about. What you're going to bet is standing at your side there. Her."

"What the hell? You've lost it. I think you've finally given in to your voices and are letting them run the show! What do you mean 'her'? Drea?"

"Give him a round folks, he's figured it out. I only said it in plain English. Let me translate it to meathead for you, John. You and I have a match. You win, I will not doubt the genuineness of your ability to get title shots without," Randy motioned to me, "divine intervention."

"So you're challenging me to a match. And if I take that match, you want me to wager another person – someone who I don't own and doesn't owe either one of us anything. Yeah, right. C'mon, Drea, we're out of here. This dude is one ink blot short of another skull tattoo with a side of bad decision." John took a couple steps forward, collecting me with his hand on my back, but I couldn't budge. I was terrified that I was going to mess up the spot, and I was pretty sure (had I remembered that absent-minded reading correctly) that this would not end well.

I was right – Randy spoke. "I guess I'm just wasting time then. Go on back to kissing ass to get him his opportunities, Drea. Maybe you should tell him what else you've kissed to make sure he gets them, too." Randy's eyes flickered as he stared at me – he pushed the button, knew it, and before I could even think better of it, I flew off the handle. This script thing could be easier than I imagined.

"What happens if he wins, Randy? You say a few words and move on? Hardly fair, I think. Put your money where your mouth is. If John beats you, he gets your number one contender spot and you go to the end of the line!" John dropped his head and Randy smiled. I was playing my part perfectly.

"Drea, I don't think-" John couldn't even get the whole sentence out.

"Shut up, John!" Randy and I overlapped over him. I walked up closer to Randy, standing on my tip toes, begging him to keep that attitude with me. This could be a little more fun that I imagined.

"Look who's got the set now. Still fighting his battles, huh, Drea? Now you're doing it in front of the WWE Universe? That's got to suck, John boy; when your girlfriend has to man up for you." Randy's jaw was sticking out, smug look written all over his face.

Right on schedule, I reared back and the 'pop' was enough to silence the crowd before they erupted. He puffed up at me, staring down his nose at me, but I clenched my teeth, determined to play my part. "I've got enough faith in John's ability to whip your ass, I'm putting mine on the line. You got your bet, you son of a bitch! And if you so much as touch me again, there won't be anything left of you for John to get his hands on!"

Randy smirked and then it happened. My world was suddenly topsy-turvy, and I was clutching my neck and the back of my head, writhing in pain on the mat near the corner. John and Randy were fighting away from me, and the crowd was eating it up. I was more worried that one of the bulls would run through me like a china shop. Slowly, I pulled up and stood against the corner post, turning to see John fling Randy hurtling toward me. Randy slowed right before he hit me, bracing his arms on either side of my head against the top ropes. His face read of nothing but surprise (totally scripted surprise, mind you); Randy winked at me slightly and he immediately dropped then rolled out of the ring. An assistant handed him a mic.

"Just keep my spot warm for me, John; you've been doing okay at that so far I guess. And Drea, I'm hoping you have some more outfits like that when you lobby for my championship shots." He winked as he backed up the ramp, sending John flailing into the top rope near me, and I went to the mat. John leaned down, and I pushed off of him as the end credits were rolling on the video board.

"John, Drea – good work out there, people. Now, Drea, we will need you to meet with Creative about your part in the match for Mania. But that can wait until after tomorrow's festivities – now, where did that son-in-law of mine go?" Vince had wandered away as I was detaching myself from those God-awful shoes. I wandered away to wardrobe to drop off my clothes and then to John's locker room. I shoved open the door, stumbling to the first chair that was open.

"Well, what do you think baby? I thought you did amazing; a little bit thick with the attitude, but hey, it worked." John wandered behind me, grabbing my shoulders softly in his massive mits. I was too drained and coming down from the sugar dump to talk. I watched him lean over me with an inquisitive look on his face. His eyes were bright and dancing back and forth as they met mine.

"John?" I managed to whisper softly, "Can you pack me to the car? I'd love to do it for myself, but I can't feel my feet." He nodded and laughed as he collected our things, then threw me up over his shoulder.

"Well, this ought to at least be familiar to you, same way you entered this company, and here you are leaving tonight this way, too." It's a good thing he was pretty cute because sometimes, damn, he had no comedic ability whatsoever.

I suddenly leaned up as we turned to walk down the hall. "John, where is Lane? How did I lose my best friend?" I wriggled away from his grasp, and let out a loud 'oof' as my feet hit the concrete. I started rifling through the bags on John's shoulder for my phone, and my fingers flew across my keyboard. _Uh, did you forget something, bitch? Where are you at?_ "John! How do I manage to lose my best friend – I'm like the worst bestie ever!"

"No, babe, you're not the worst…bestie…ever, whatever that is. Lane probably found someone to hang out with; I'm sure she's fine." My phone jingled, and I dodged John's attempt at a kiss to check the message.

_Well, Ted and I are doing a little pre-drinking at the hotel, then I'm going out with a bunch of random people. You guys coming out? Or are we meeting when I manage to pour myself into the suite?_

I responded to Lane, snorting as the text left my phone. _I'm way too pooped to party – you're on your own with Ted. Make sure he keeps his hands to himself until after everyone else leaves. Call me if you need me._

John shrugged as he leaned against the wall. I started wandering away, signaling John to pick up the bags and follow behind me. Sweet, well-trained John. He allowed me to wallow in my own surprise without having fears of forgetting my purse or keys.

_Take good care of John then punkin'. See you in the mornin. ;)_

"So what's the verdict, sugar tits? Do we need to wait on her?" John had heard the phone go off, and was now talking over my shoulder as we left. I sighed to myself – same Lane channel, same Lane time.

"She's out drinking with Ted, so she more than likely will pour herself back into the hotel in time to pass out for a while before she gets breakfast. I'd say to go unlock the door at about 4:30ish." John smiled at me as I tucked my phone away in my pocket.

"Just means I've got you all to myself for a while. Let's go get you a good foot rub and have a little fun." I couldn't help but grin at his obvious intentions. John managed to wrangle me to the rental car, secure the bags, and I was out before he got into the driver's seat and put the key in the ignition. Being a ballsy, self-assured streetwalker really takes it out of you, no matter how hot your boyfriend might be or that he's offering to rub your feet.


	34. Kid in a Candy Shop

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case.**

**I'd appreciate some feedback about your thoughts on what Drea has gotten herself into. Puh-lease leave me some love!**

**CHAPTER 34**

John shoved me lightly as there was a noise outside our bedroom. "Babe – you go, she's home."

I grunted some nonsensical response. I hated it when Lane did this; she would hang out with some random, showing up hours later still giggling from her latest exploits. Good thing that I loved her and her loyalty record was spotless. A lesser friend would have gotten an earful from a half-sleepy giant bitching about them interrupting his beauty sleep. Lane had managed to endear herself enough that I was simply notified to go entertain her until she passed out again.

_Damn you, Lane. Damn you, John. Damn everyone who isn't my bed. _My own mind was just stumbling over its own anger about being up at this un-Godly hour as I made my way out of the bedroom and in to the common area. Lane was filling a glass of water as I schlumped into a chair near the kitchenette.

"So how was your night, pookie? Please tell me there were no cops involved." I was secretly hoping there were cops involved and a good story to keep me awake.

Lane shut off the tap, and leaned over the counter, taking a long pull from her glass of water. "Nah, Ted talked 'em down."

"Oh, that's comforting. You and Ted hang out, and he is the good influence; never thought that one would come out of my mouth." God love her heart, but Lane is my best friend for a very good reason. "So what was it this time?"

Lane came over and laid down across the ottoman in front of my chair. "Well, we made up a new drinking game in the back while you were making your debut – which was pretty hot by the way, you looked like sex on a stick, girl. I'm really surprised you could slap ol' Orton like that and not get all hot and bothered by that look on his face. I totally expected him to lunge at you and offer to go at it right then and there." She smirked, waiting for my reaction. When I didn't give it – partially due to her honesty hitting me on the blind side, and partially due to my own sleepiness – she continued. "So, we drank every time someone said your name, and we left the arena drunk as skunks. Ted decided that the driver could take us out on the town, and yeah…"

"So you're telling me that from about nine o'clock last night until right now, ya'll have been drinking. Continuously." I was impressed with her dedication, even though I shouldn't have been. Lane had schooled me on several occasions and was solely responsible for my training in the drunkenly arts. She had out drank a midshipman and a platoon of marines on shore leave once; it was impressive to see.

"You would be correct, ma'am. And it was fun as shit. How was your night? You and Johnny knock pictures off the wall?" Lane snickered at her own comment as it was leaving her mouth. I snorted at her as well.

"Well, duh. But right now it's still partially dark outside, and there is a naked man in my bed. Go to yours and grab a nap. We are hitting the spa around eleven, so I'll be out at about quarter after ten."

I started to stand up and was greeted with a loud thud as Lane fell off the ottoman. She immediately began laughing at her top volume as I offered her a hand up.

"Yeah, I'm out. Just wake me up when ya'll are done knockin' boots, oakie dokie?" And with that, she ran into a couple walls and eventually made her way into the other bedroom. Lane had left the building.

After laying back down for what seemed like only a few moments, I found myself running into Lane's room, bounding from the door to the bed in a single jump. It was actually quite athletic, really. "Wake up, Bitchy McSlut-face! Time to go!"

Lane did not look amused to be awake at that moment in time. In fact, I think that 'hatred with the intensity of a thousand suns' was even too light of a phrase to describe the look across her face. "What time is it? If it's not in double digits, I'm going to be pissed." All she could groan was her displeasure when she noticed it was only 9:30 in the morning.

"C'mon now, Laners. You love me as much as you love a mall; sometimes more." I hopped off her bed and threw open the curtains, flooding her room with light. "Plus, I've got a wallet full of plastic ready to go, and we have spa appointments in about an hour and a half compliments of John."

"Love you, John boy!" Lane rolled over. "I'm up – game time, bitch."

Everyone looked so bright and shiny as they walked the step-and-repeat to the induction ceremony, even some of the larger guys looked quite dapper. I walked slowly behind John, grasping to his massive hand. He stopped every few feet to talk with a reporter, or sign some autographs for screaming fans – his dedication was ridiculous. I began to think that I was invisible behind John, which was just fine with me at that point, until he poked me a little harder than intended.

"OW! What the heck was that for?" I grabbed my side with my other hand, rubbing my ribs where John had attempted to impale his elbow.

He whispered low and out of the side of his mouth to me, attempting to keep his smile wide. "Honey, Matt asked you a question." John smiled back at the host.

"Sorry, Matt. I couldn't quite hear you – what did you ask?" I attempted a half-hearted smile at Matt Striker.

"I just wanted to let you know that you looked amazing tonight, Drea. Are you excited?"

"Thank you so much, Matt! I'm very excited for tonight, you know? It's wonderful to see everyone looking so phenomenal this evening," I patted John's chest as he wrapped an arm around the small of my back, pulling me tight against him.

"How do you fee about John's match tomorrow night against Randy Orton? Are you worried at all?"

I gazed at John's eyes as they danced back and forth, taking in all the flash bulbs popping and people yelling for his attention. I smiled back at Matt, preparing to open my mouth with a wonderfully articulate answer…but Lane had other ideas. She sidled right up beside me, threw her freshly manicured hand on her Vera Wang clad hip, and let it rip before I could even attempt to whisk her farther down the carpet. This would turn out to be a face palm moment I was sure.

"I got this, girl. Mr. Matt, like she should worry. John would do anything to keep this girl safe, and explain to me what man wants his woman around another guy? That douche bag should focus more on making sure his tattoos are all spelled correctly, and keeping his dick in his pants to avoid any additional indiscretions."

I know my eyes were popped wide, as were John's and Matt's. Lane smiled sweetly as she leaned over and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before slinking away, waving wildly at Ted who was farther down the carpet. John nodded with a terse smile, "Well, there's your answer – raw and uncensored," and pulled us away toward a group of fans holding out their sharpies and pictures.

I couldn't believe she said what she did. My mind was frozen, much like the surprise on my face. I waved to the fans and sheepishly attempted to hide behind John's hulking frame again, where I knew it was safe. I should say that I totally failed at this attempt thanks in part to my wardrobe choice which, while amazingly gorgeous – I was rocking a purple, crystal encrusted Dolce & Gabbana floor length gown, complete with plunging neck line and thigh-high slit – it did not lend itself to hiding.

"John, I'm so sorry, I had no idea she would ever say that in a million years. Oh my Lord, I am so freaking embarrassed!" I tucked my head down as we entered the hall.

John stopped short, softly grabbing my elbow and laughing to himself. "Babe, she's kind of hilarious. And the fact that you're telling me you had no idea she would ever be unpredictable is bullshit. You know her, and it's fine, Drea; she's right. I'm going to fight Creative tooth and nail about this – I'm not letting you go without some kind of a fight."

"Aw, aren't you having a sweet moment, babe. Everything tucked into this dress?" I grinned at John as I threw my leg out of the slit in the dress.

"For right now, but I'm hoping it doesn't stay that way all night." John winked as his hand grazed down my thigh. "Let's go sugar tits, I want to make Austin and every other man in this place jealous."

The induction ceremony was a bit longer than I anticipated, and despite my bestie's audible complaints, there was not an open bar during the ceremony itself. Lane was spending her last night away from home planning the evening like she was going to the executioner when the sun rose. John spent the night clapping and nodding appropriately when the cameras flew by him, and every other waking moment with his hand creeping up my leg. And then there was me. I tried to take in the experience; all the talent that had surrounded us, and keep my laughter in check as Mr. Stone Cold muttered all kinds of colorful stories and nicknames about the inductees to his audience. He and Lane seemed to be getting on famously, running their drinking ideas past each other prior to settling on a course of action for the conclusion of the ceremony.

John, Lane, and myself were finally seated in the limo on our way to the after-party, which Lane had thrown together haphazardly with the assistance of the Texas Rattlesnake and her trusty Iphone. We were headed to some posh downtown club, and she was negotiating like hell for free bottle service just for us gracing this person's club with our presence. I snuggled up closer to John, smiling to myself at how funny this whole picture would look to anyone other than myself – there was a pretty girl, in a clingy dress, nearly yelling at some random guy over the phone about how she shouldn't have to pay for her drinks.

I had always figured that I was the type of person who could admit her defeats, and ultimately, Lane had just dealt me another one. The location of her new exploits was pretty sweet – all the things that most clubs wish they were. Our booths were reserved near the DJ booth, replete with every bottle and mixer available. Somehow word had spread, and most of the talent had found their way to the location with us. Lane was holding court amid a small group of guys, including her newfound bestie, Ted, laughing and drinking cocktails like it was her job. Steve had hung back around talking with John, who was content in his chair, beer in one hand and the other resting on my thigh. I poured myself the fifth vodka tonic of the night, heavy on the Goose, light on the tonic. I had my security in force, why not get a little extra loose with the Goose, right?

"John, I'm gonna tell you something right now, if you fuck Vince, he'll fuck you back – without so much as the common courtesy to give you a reach around. You need to watch yourself." Steve had loosened his tie and undone the first few buttons of his dress shirt, leaving him looking as relaxed as a self-proclaimed redneck could all spiffied up. His eyes were sharp as he gestured his beer-holding hand toward John and myself.

"Steve, really, it's not that I'm fucking him," John started, wagging his own finger back at Steve. I sat back, taking a long pull of my very vodka filled glass, attempting to not choke to death. _Smooth_.

"Yes, ya are. That one," Steve blurted out, pointing in my general direction, "pulled a fast one on 'im. He ain't gonna let it happen again; John, you can't get everything you want."

"Whoa there, Miss Lippy; just what the hell did I do?" I was drunk. It was apparent. I never would have willingly entered this little cactus field otherwise. Plus, I seriously doubt anyone had recently called Steve Austin 'Miss Lippy'. "I didn't pull a fast one on anyone."

"Oh, I call bullshit! At least you're good lookin', 'cause, shit...John boy here has been the company man for so long, and it's eating Vince alive – he's created a monster. The public has reaction, but he can't put John in a losing position since he doesn't have the manpower to step up. You've narrowed him down." Steve seemed pretty resolute about his point, but I really didn't get it. Or the vodka soaked brain in my head didn't get it; it was one or the other.

"Huh?" Yup, that's me – debate mastermind.

"I don't know if you're right though, Steve. I still think I'm good." John leaned forward a bit in his chair, swilling the last of his beer before grabbing for another from the iced bucket.

"You know I am, John. You think those low-rent B-list movie script monkeys in creative did this? Hell fucking no, it was Vince. If he can't make you fade away for a bit with her helping you argue, he's gonna make it happen without her. Face facts, Johnny, you're losing tomorrow night." Steve leaned back farther, throwing an arm over the back of his seat. His face resembled a cat who had just eaten a canary.

"We don't have to worry. John's not supposed to lose, so I'll be with him ringside until this little hitch plays out." I kissed the side of John's cheek, and when I pulled back, I noticed the grave look written in his furrowed brow.

"I hope you're wrong, Steve. I'm going to do everything I can to keep that from happening. I just hope you're wrong." John shook his head before taking a long, slow pull from his beer.

"Look, son, I've known Vince for years. He knows what'll make ya squirm and what's good for his pocket book. And the golden boy does not end up with the girl right off the bat." With that, Steve stood up, nodded at us, then wandered away into the crowd.

"John, don't worry, I'm sure we will figure something out. Besides, no matter what happens, you're with me and I have you – bottom line." I smiled as John leaned his head down slightly, watching intently as his fingers twirled the glass in his hands. He looked sideways at me, his eyes slowly fluttering open wider.

John and I exchanged a worried look to each other before he grinned, "No worries tonight, baby. We are going to be just fine." John leaned in and gently kissed the nape of my neck, "I'll take care of this tomorrow, I'll fix this."


	35. Alpha Males

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case.**

**Keep me in the loop – let me know what you think!**

**CHAPTER 35**

"Janine, are you serious? There is no way this is going to work." I kept pulling at the dress hem, tugging it as far down as possible only for it to ride back up as soon as I stood up straight again.

"Drea, it was ordered for you specifically for this event. The instructions were clear – tight, white, short, preferably spandex." Janine stood with a hand on either hip. "Besides that, all this worrying and working out you've been doing is making you look really good – own that shit, girl." Ugh, was there anything worse than being shoved into a dress you're really not fond of and then being pushed out for millions to see? Oh, right – doing it all without Spanx.

An hour later, I found myself schlepping back to John's room, pouting about my hair, make-up, wardrobe and shoes. Normally, I loved the girls and what they did for how the talent looked, but Vince had done some massive staffing additions in the last few days, so I was just getting to know my new wardrobe mistress, makeup artist, and hair stylist. While I'm not really upset in the slightest that I was no longer answering for several grown mens' property, I was also not quite used to how it felt to be one of the sheep and no longer the border collie.

I pushed open the locker room door, hoping to find a welcoming set of arms and lots of reassurance. Instead, I found…a chair and several gym bags. I've seen old western movies with more activity from the tumbleweeds than what was going on in that locker room. "What the fuck? Where the hell is he?" God, I love when I feel the need to talk to myself out loud in an empty room; sanity is not a friend of mine. I guess I truly was an island.

Catering tables normally don't lend themselves to time for yourself, this time, however, my impersonation of Hawaii was uninterrupted for the next hour or so. Barely anyone came in or out of the room, no one stayed to chat, and my textapalooza was not garnering responses. Any responses. At all. This was worse than I ever felt in middle school when Jesse Maynes told everyone I had gotten mono from making out with Louis Benton. I shuddered at the very thought – if you knew what an insult that was, you might be scared too. Had I been blacklisted and not realized it?

"Drea, sweetie…" The voice in my ear was calm, soothing, and was the first human interaction I'd had in over three hours. I slowly lifted my head from my folded arms, blinking slowly as my eyes adjusted to the light of the room. Beth was smirking, "Uh, you may wanna head back to make-up. I think you may just need a touch up."

"Gee, thanks, you're a pal, but this is how I'm being sent out into the world. Someone sure has a sense of humor, huh?" I rested my chin against my hands, slumping further onto the table as Beth slid into the chair next to me. "So where is everyone around this place? I looked all around for John, and I couldn't find him or anyone else for that matter. Did I become a leper? Beth, do I smell funny?" I started sniffing on my shoulders, then pulled the ends of my hair forward to give it a quick sniff.

Beth smirked to herself before responding. "Seriously? Oh my Lord, Drea, you don't smell – stop being weird. I do, however, think you were left out of the last minute Creative meeting on purpose."

"What meeting? There was a meeting?" I'm guessing that this is exactly what she was talking about.

"Vince had all the talent come into the conference room to discuss the last minute changes, and we were all dismissed," I started open my mouth, but Beth answered my unasked question, "John and Randy were asked to stay behind."

"Why didn't I get invited to this little party? I'm always fun at parties…" I was being a total whiner; we both knew it.

"Drea, shut up. I don't know what happened with the guys, and it makes no sense to really stick on it. You know John's easier to read than a picture book, so when you track him down, you're going to know everything. Now go back to make up, get fixed up, and get ready for the ride. It's going to be insane." Beth never realizes her full strength, so when she punched me in the shoulder, I fully believe that she thought it was playful.

"Fine, jeez – no reason to try and beat my ass." I stood up, rubbing my shoulder, wincing at the instant pain. Beth pointed me to the door, and like the 4 year old who had been told to go to her room without dinner, I skulked my way out of the catering room and back into the depths of the arena.

Why did I suddenly feel so self-conscious? I'd only been parading around in a white spandex bandage dress, awaiting my Wrestlemania debut, for 10 hours now. Sadly enough, I was becoming one with my clothing; I suddenly had the urge to either troll corners or go get married for less than 3 months. I felt like a mix of Lindsay Lohan – pre-rehab, Japanese harijuku , and a Jean Paul Gaultier runway gone wrong. My hair had been teased to its limits, my white eye shadow was brushed into wide cat-eye tips with dark black charcoaled rims, and that push up bra was working overtime. I still had yet to see John for the first time of the evening; apparently the meeting did not go well, so there was another marathon session between John, Vince, and his Creative directors. Or at least that is what every PA told me on my walk to the gorilla, where I now stood, awaiting my fate.

I heard him approaching before he ever got close to me. I was watching the monitor, staring at how horrible Michael Cole's pores looked that close up, and heard the growl behind me grow louder. "White is your color, baby." I swear that his body gave off more heat than the surface of the sun, and despite my wishes to the contrary, I felt exhilarated by his proximity. "I'm hoping that you keep that dress to hit the town with me after this all goes down. I'll have to keep you on a short leash, though; you look fucking amazing."

I tucked my chin against my shoulder, "Who said anything about me doing anything with you ever again, Randy? You finally give in to that whole mental health issue? You must have forgotten that John and I are together, and I'm sure that once he hears about your little commentary, you're going to be incapacitated from any extra curricular activities – I'll make sure someone alerts the local call girls."

He snorted loudly. "Good to see you haven't lost that edge, baby; it's sexy. But I'm guessing that you must not know…" Randy slid to my side, his eyes dancing back and forth as that trademark smirk crossed his lips. "Ol' Johnny boy finally popped that vein during our meeting with Creative and management. Vince threatened to fire him on the spot if he couldn't chill out – he's supposed to put me over by an injury, and if he doesn't, they are going to suspend him." Randy puffed his chest out wider, "Either way, you're going to be working with me. John is heading back to FCW for a while to help out a new recruit, and we are going to be making the rounds."

It was as if someone had told me again that Santa Claus wasn't real. I was going to be bounced back to the dark side, and it was all due to John's temper. Vince had it out for John; he'd been plotting his downfall since I changed his mind about the divorce story. More than that, I'd pissed off Creative so I'm now combined into this little plot for revenge. I am so going to put Ex-Lax in a few peoples' coffee when I got the chance.

Randy's music hit, and with a wink of his eye, he slithered out the curtain to a deafening pop of the crowd. I immediately demanded that the nearest assistant found out where John was holding himself hostage; and no sooner did I ask but did he appear around the corner, marching my way with his face red hot.

"John!" I perched a hand on my hip lightly, "Where have you been? What is going on?"

He reached me and skidded to a stop, running his hand over his clenched jaw before speaking. "This whole fucking company has gone fucking retarded, that's what's happened! Every-fucking-time I get to a good place and get working really well, they have to fuck with me. Every Fucking Time!"

"John, calm down – what are we going to do?" I reached out to grab his arm, but it was wrenched away from me. John's face was hardened and pointed; his eyes were narrow and cold.

"WE? We?" John stepped toward me until he was nearly nose-to-nose. "WE aren't going to do anything. WE haven't been sent packing, and WE haven't just lost the reassignment of the title." John ground his teeth while staring me down; I started to wilt backwards slightly.

"John, I'm…sor…" I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

"Suck it up, Drea. I'm fucked. Let's just get this over with because I have to be on a plane to Tampa tonight. C'mon." And with that, John went through the curtain, I followed, and I tried to keep the tears off my bright red cheeks.

I grabbed John's arm as he started down the ramp to the ring, "What the hell was that, John?"

John stopped short, his eyes darting back and forth as he looked into mine. "Drea, this is all your fault. If you hadn't pushed Creative's buttons and somehow made Vince think he was wrong about something, I'd never be in this position. Here I am, having to pay for your mouth, and you could care less!"

"Are you fucking kidding me? How do you know any of that, or that this is my fault? From what I hear, someone," I jabbed my index finger into John's chest hard, "lost his ever-loving mind today, and it sure as hell was not me!" I couldn't control the anger or my tears anymore.

"Sure, it's all my fault. You're trouble, Drea. I don't know what I've been thinking, but it's been made very clear to me – being around you is not good for my career." His words were bitter and full of disdain. I ducked my head away from the camera that was trailing us to wipe away my tears, and John ran straight off to the ring, leaving me there with my own internal misery.

The match went back and forth for at least 35 minutes until the end drew near. My mind was still reeling from what John had said to me. I was pacing the ring, trying to keep my hurt inside and the pretend face on. I could barely believe how John had acted – it was like he was a pissed off teenage boy who just got turned down for his first lay. It was no where near the John I knew and loved; he was horrible.

John and Randy were attempting to run a quick reminder about their next moves when John lost it again. Randy had him in the corner. "Look, douche bag, I'm out. Pin me and get it over with." John opened his chest up as Randy threw a shot to his pecs hard.

"You know I can't do that, John. You have to go over the announcer's table to make the injury believable." Randy grabbed John, and flung him out of the ropes. I was getting closer to the action, peeking around the corner post before I walked around the stairs.

John stood up and started back towards Randy as he slid out of the ring under the bottom rope. "Fuck you." John rammed himself against Randy's shoulders, jerking Randy back violently against the frame of the ring. This was going to be more than a scripted injury if I didn't pull these two apart.

Before my own brilliant self-preservation instinct could come back to life, I lunged forward and grabbed onto John's arm as he drew it back. He turned instantly around, throwing me off his arm and down to the ground. "What the hell are you doing, Drea? Stay the fuck out of this, you've already done enough!"

Randy's eyes met mine as I looked up from the ground, stunned at what John had allowed himself to do and say. In an instant, that crafted face went blank; his eyes were dark and pointed. Randy drew his left hand back and thrust it into the side of John's face as it was turned. John's head whipped back, and he dropped to the floor next to me. Randy's chest was heaving, John was in a heap near where I was located on the floor, and both my hands were attempting to cover my gaping mouth. "Fuck you, Cena – you want me to do this the hard way, so be it, but don't you ever treat a female like that, especially not her!"

Randy walked over and threw the cover to the announcer's table off, grabbed a monitor and threw it down against John's exposed chest. The crowd was going nuts at this explosive outburst, but I was more scared he would end up doing more than temporary damage. I crawled over to John and tried to help him up to his feet as Randy's back was turned to grab the next monitor to hurl.

"John, get up. Get up now." I had my hands wrapped around John's bicep, trying in vain to lift up his mass from the ground. Randy turned to throw the next monitor and froze.

"Drea, move. Now." Randy's face was scary and vacant – it reminded me of the look I saw on him the night he let the scuzy bartender have it.

"Randy, please, don't hurt him. Please," I let John's arm drop and lightly placed a hand on Randy's chest. "He's down, stop." Randy's arm dropped to his side as he held my stare; I was pleading for a shred of discretion to return to his eyes. Slowly, they thawed and he leaned down to speak, trying in vain to avoid the cameras or the audience catching his words.

"Drea, he's out of line, and you know it. I saw what he did to you coming down, and he laid his hands on you again. I fucking warned him. He's begging for an ass kicking, and you know it!" His tone was a harsh whisper, but having him so close brought chills down my spine. _Why was I arguing for John's pardon again? _Those juicy lips were spewing some very good, tantalizing points right now.

"God damn it, Drea, what the fuck are you doing?" I was pulled from my little bubble when someone forcefully grabbed my upper arm, whipping me around like a rag doll. John was beet red and seething; his hand had my arm so tightly it was cutting off circulation to my hand.

"Ow, John, you're hurting me," I winced as he jerked my arm up higher with more force.

"What the fuck are you doing? Are you selling me out? What the hell?" This was not the John I knew; he was gone with no note telling me where he went. I wasn't sure what had ultimately been jarred loose in that head of his by Randy's fist, but instead of doing anything ballsy in my own defense, my eyes poured out tears like it was their job.

"I was keeping him from completely murdering you, you asshole! I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but this is fucking bullshit!" I ripped my arm out of John's hand, standing nose to nose and attempting to be unafraid of the behemoth before me. I was starting to crack as John leaned in closer, hands near my shoulders…and then I heard him.

"Touch her, Cena, and I'll kill you." Randy pressed up against my back, his hard breathing was pushing his abs against me.

"Stay out of this, asshole. This is between us, not you." John leaned up, trying to extend his height to match Randy's, but failing by a few inches. I was suddenly the lunch meat in this sandwich that was about 30 seconds from exploding.

"Fuck you, bitch. I've watched you yell and scream at her, then you throw her down…touch her again, and I will fucking end your time here." John stared at Randy, both men growling low under their breath at the other, waiting for someone to flinch.

"Leave now Randy, or this doesn't end well for you. Drea," John took my forearm in his hand, and the next moments were a blur. John pulled, and as I started to fall forward into him, I felt Randy push me aside before jumping on top of John. They both tumbled down to the floor, throwing punches and elbows right, left, and center. The crowd was eating this up, and I was frozen – unable to move to try and drag one away from the other. After what seemed like an eternity, Randy stood up, took a couple steps back and lit up the side of John's head like he was kicking from 45 yards out for the Super Bowl trophy. The thud was sickening, and John lay on his back – out cold. Randy picked up John's limp frame and tossed him back in the ring before pinning him down. I was left outside the ring, still sitting on my knees, as the ref counted the 3 and the crowd erupted again.

I had never been let in on the secret about how Randy had been told to make John's injury seem believable other than using the announcers' table, but I doubted that this was the way they had thought it would end up.

Randy had effectively done what he was sent out to the ring to do; John's body was in shambles, much like his career would be for the time being once he came to. I stayed on the ground, watching the medics strap John to the backboard, tears having stained my face. Randy stood at the corner until John was wheeled to the back. The shrieks of the women behind the barricades were escalating as Randy rolled under the ropes, slowly strolling over to where I was seated. He held out his hand and I simply couldn't move – he had just won, in convincing fashion, and beat the shit out of the man whom I loved. The same man who had blamed for me for every bit of his recent troubles, and the same man who had left visible bruises on my arms. Randy crouched down, his hand still outstretched to me.

"Drea, you have to walk back with me. Let me help you up." His eyes were piercing right through me, but had regained some of their warmth. I stood up, numb, without his help. I stared at my shoes and pulled the hem of my dress back down as I felt the draft flow up my legs. I started back around the ring, heading up the ramp toward the back entrance. I could hear the crowd's reaction as Randy followed me.


	36. The Surreal Life

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case.**

**CHAPTER 36**

"Where's Beth? I need Beth," I grabbed onto the first PA I saw when I walked into the gorilla. He nodded and got on this walkie immediately. I was still frozen, waiting to find out where my surrogate conscious was at the moment.

"Don't worry guys, I'll walk with her." I heard Randy behind me, and before I could argue, I was being whisked away to the bowels of the arena. We ducked into a locker room; Randy locked the door behind him, then walked the room and bathroom to ensure no one else had inhabited his lair.

"Did that just happen?" I was near tears again as my bottom lip quivered faster; damn I hated days when I felt like the Lifetime Movie Network. This whole experience had been exhausting, and now the man I loved wanted nothing to do with me for a reason that was beyond any logic that I knew of. I hadn't done anything malicious to John to cause this situation for him; Vince was vindictive, and John's temper probably got the best of him in every possible way. I was utterly stunned.

Randy threw his bag back down on the chair next to me, rifling through it for a moment, then extending his hand to me with a pair of his sweat pants and a t-shirt. "I know you probably hate that dress, so change. I'm going to hit the head, and then we can get you out of here." Randy walked into the bathroom with some shorts and a shirt, shutting the door behind him. I tried to quickly get the dress undone, but I was failing miserably. The zipper was fleshed tight against the middle part of my back. _Thank you, Janine and management, for dressing me in spandex_. I wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to anything other than being annoyed by my dress, never noticing that Randy had reappeared from the bathroom until I felt his hands on my back and the zipper moving down. I shimmied out of the dress once undone, and into the pants and shirt he had so sweetly provided. It was, of course, 3 sizes too large for me, as Janine really was correct in her assessment that worrying had been one the best diets I'd ever put myself on.

"Thank you." It was the only thing I could muster at the moment. Randy nodded as he sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall, facing me as I tried to park on the nearest folding chair. "Son of a –," there was a loud thud as I crashed to the floor. He snorted as he tried to keep the laughter inside. "Thanks, asshole."

His snicker was the only noise in the room. The silence when he stopped was deafening.

"Where is he, Randy? I can't leave like this…" I couldn't imagine why John would have every done anything that would jeopardize his career like this. I also liked to believe that I mattered enough that he would never want to hurt me.

"He's probably getting checked out with the docs. I bet he's going to be taken to the airport once he's done." I nodded, and as I did, the tears finally began to fall down my face in a steady stream. Randy popped up from his seat, crossing the room quickly, and hoisted me up against his chest, wrapping his thick arms around me. It was a glimpse of the old Randy – the man who was my most staunch ally and unfailingly loyal. The man he was prior to his indiscretion. I was letting my anger and sadness go, tears streaming from my eyes full force, as Randy, and his shirt, absorbed the wrath. After a few moments, as my crying began to subside, he spoke softly, "Why don't I walk you over so you can do what you need to, and we will head to the hotel?"

I nodded. "That's fine. I don't know what will happen about my stuff, though." My statement didn't seem to phase Randy – he simply packed up his bag and led me out of the room. I followed behind him quietly, all alone with my thoughts. _What did I do to John to get him in this much trouble? Is this salvageable? Am I going to be all alone again? What had I done to deserve this? Was this even my fault to begin with?_

I never seemed to notice how long we had been wandering until I walked through a door behind Randy, and found John sitting on the edge of a trainer's table. His voice jarred me back to the moment as Randy rubbed his face and leaned up against the door frame. "I should have fucking known it. I lose out on my spot around here, and no sooner am I even on the way out and you're with him. Fuck me!" John was yelling so loudly that several support staff stopped in their tracks outside the door. Randy kicked the door closed as he stalked inside the room further, coming closer to the action.

"John, I didn't do anything. I don't know what is causing this, but please stop…" My voice cracked as I tried to hold my composure.

"Stop playing the fucking victim, Drea. This whole mess is your fault; I mean, all you had to do was keep your mouth shut. As far as you and I are concerned, it's done – I won't be with a cheating, manipulative bitch again. You never loved me, you just loved what you could get from me, didn't you?" My resolve was shrinking down with every dig he threw at me. John continued to berate me under his breath, but loud enough for both Randy and I to hear. Randy's teeth ground together and the growl that was emanating from his chest echoed in the training room.

"John, I realize this is not what you envisioned, but I don't believe it is my fault at all. I had no idea about anything that was going on with your match tonight, and I surely wouldn't ever want something for you that made you as miserable as you seem right now. John, I love you – I've been honest, loyal, and I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you." I took a step toward him.

John leaned back before he popped off the table, wandering away from me across the room. "Loyal. Honest. Didn't know anything. And," John turned to face me, his eyes pointed and his glare intense, "I call bullshit. Drea, you're bad news. I should have known what to expect when you started up with this one, and now I'm paying the price for my own stupidity in allowing you to attach yourself to me. We're done. Have fun being reprising your role as his next in a long line of mistakes; you're just his type – whore."

I couldn't move. _John just called me a whore after he broke up with me._ "I'm sorry…you…feel-" I dropped to my knees, tucking my head into my hands as I screeched out loud. There was no gentle easing into this round of tears – I ran into it like Snooki would an open bar.

Randy stomped over and shoved John back into the wall with a loud thud. "Seriously? You are a fucking asshole! What the fuck is your problem? How dare you say anything like that to her? She's treated you like fucking gold, and that's what you call her? I knew I should have bashed your fucking skull in!"

John pushed himself off the wall, wavering slightly as he did. "Of course you'd bail in, Orton – why be alone when you can pick up a cheap piece of ass?" John charged at Randy, shoving his arms into Randy's chest, shoving him hard back against the door frame.

"Watch your fucking mouth, you spineless son of a bitch. I'll make sure you get a permanent vacation if you don't." Randy was no longer yelling which sent chills up my spine. I sniffled loudly as I leaned up, watching the two of them come nose to nose.

"What's wrong, Randall? Think this will help get you laid with my newest ex? Go ahead, I know you've been on the field before; let's face it, you definitely couldn't have been the first, and I know you'll not be the last."

I quietly stood up, walking over to where the OK Corral stare-down was happening near the door. I softly laid my hand on Randy's arm, and he quietly backed away enough to allow my body to tuck between his and John's. I stared at John; I studied his face for a moment, attempting to register any form of human decency or care for me. He squinted like he couldn't understand what was going on. I acted. I reached my hand back and cracked it across his cheek as hard as I could muster at that point; the sound resonated around the concrete walls as John stared off in the direction I had sent his jaw flying. "John, I hope you find whatever it is you need in this life, but never again even think my name. I'm done with this, and quite frankly, right now, I could care less if you wander from this arena into oncoming traffic. I hope you live the rest of your life alone, wondering about why you cannot let anyone in and why you always end up by yourself."

John said nothing, I was afraid to let out my breath, but Randy held lightly onto my shoulders. "Drea, come on. We should get you back to the hotel to rest and eat." John opened his mouth, but was interrupted. "You are never going to be good enough for her, douche bag. Let it go, and wallow in your life as a fucking failure." John said nothing else, and we left quietly.

Randy pulled me to him, holding me close while petting the back of my hair softly as we left John standing in the room, his hand on his now red hand-printed jaw. I wandered next to him, lost in my own personal hell, as he walked us to the parking lot exit. The only stop was to ask one of the female PA to locate my bags and have them brought to the hotel.

As people started staring at my puffy face and runny make-up, Randy stopped to pull the hood of my borrowed sweatshirt up and over my face as camouflage. I clung to his hand with both of mine until he pulled me against his side again, his arm over my shoulder. I was walked to his rental and deposited inside.

The ride to the hotel was silent, and he never asked where my room was, but took me straight to his own. The door opened and he deposited the bag in the chair across from the bed – without anyone else to really worry with, he stayed in the most basic of accommodations these days apparently. I quietly walked over, pulled back the covers, and curled into a ball in his bed.

"What can I get for you to eat, Drea? Burger? Chicken?" Randy thumbed through the restaurant menu quickly at the desk area near the TV stand.

"I'm really okay, but thank you." I knew it wasn't going to work as an answer the moment it left my lips. Randy had always been someone who refused to let people wallow in pity without at least making sure they were fed. He also was much more educated in my habits than others, and he knew that a hungry Drea was one of the most deadly to be around.

"You need to eat." He picked up the phone immediately. "Yes, hi. I'm in room 625, and I need to have some food sent up please. Uh, give me the bacon cheeseburger with fries, that fried chicken salad with ranch, and two grilled chicken breast plates with steamed vegetables for both, tons of extra ranch, and," Randy gave me a sideways glance, "send up about half a cheesecake with strawberries, chocolate and caramel sauce. Yes ma'am, charge it to my room. Yes ma'am, I've got proof I'm me. Thanks." He hung up the phone, closed the menu, and sat down on the foot of the bed.

"Half a cheesecake? Did someone die and I wasn't informed?"

"Who says it's all for you? I may not give you a single bite." The TV flicked on to a random channel as Randy wandered the room, moving his things from one chair to the other. It was pretty obvious that other than his ordering of enough calories to make Jillian Michaels have a heart attack, he had no idea what to do with himself in this situation. Luckily, he only had to kill a few minutes before there was a knock at the door and his order was wheeled in the room. He gave the young bell hop several bills, thanked him quietly, and locked the door after him.

Randy threw up as many pillows as he could find against the headboard on the other side of the bed where I was not curled into a tight little ball. All the platters, silverware, and condiments were then arranged in front of him. He looked as happy with himself as a kid unleashed in the Hershey factory without supervision. I couldn't help be watch him with a smirk on my face as I turned over and backed myself to a seated position next to him. The corner of his mouth gently nudged upward, and he handed me a fork, then the remote.

Randy said nothing while eating, and he didn't even claim a plate strictly for himself. I was granted access to anything I decided to stab and shove in my mouth, and he never bitched once when I made him watch re-runs of whatever Challenge MTV was showing at this hour. Randy must have really thought I was in horrible shape – this was something that I was sure no one would believe. I'm not sure I really believed it myself, and I was right here.

"Good thing you weren't hungry, Drea. Hate to see what would be left if you were." There was only some french fry remnants and empty containers of ranch dressing left. "If I go get the cheesecake, are you going to at least let me pull my hand back before you pounce on it?"

"Ha, ha." Randy climbed off the bed to retrieve the dessert, and even offered me the first bites as he sat back down. He must have really felt bad for me, not that I minded. He got me cheesecake. Who says men can't be trained to know the appropriate response to certain stimuli?

"Thanks for dinner." I snuggled down under the covers as Randy finished off the single piece of cheesecake I hadn't devoured. He smiled back as he cleared off the make-shift table, right before he turned off the lights. In the glow of the TV screen, I saw him shed his t-shirt stained with my make-up streaks before I felt his weight roll onto the other side of the bed.

There was silence for a couple minutes, then Randy huffed. "Drea, he's a dick. You're not any of those things he said – don't believe him for a second." I couldn't respond for fear I would start with the water works again, and I was pretty well cried out for the evening at this point. Randy must have felt like I was holding back for some other reason. "I can take you to a different room and drop you off if you want; I don't want you to be uncomfortable. Just let me know."

Who was this sensitive man parading around as the Randy I knew? He had defended my honor, let me drip snot on his shirt while crying, fed me like I was a starved sumo wrestler, and now he was offering to put me in a different hotel room if I didn't feel okay laying where I was. I think it pushed me over the edge in the state I was currently in…I rolled over, facing him, and grabbed onto his arm. When I spoke, it was so soft that a whisper would have had to ask me to repeat myself. "I can't believe that it happened like this, but thank you for being here for me, Randy. I'm good right here for right now if you're fine with me staying." With that, I rolled over, laying my head onto his chest, snuggling in the crook of his arm.

"Sure you can. I'm going to be right here until you tell me to leave." And with that, Randy curled his arm against my back as he grabbed the remote to change the channel and kissed my forehead. "Get some sleep, baby."


	37. All Eyes On Me

**CHAPTER 37**

**First - let me apologize to faithful readers and new browsers alike; I've been having a few major life changes and that can definitely derail one's ability to write. But, I'm here now, as is Drea, and I'm excited to see what you all think of the whirlwind that is her life right now. Send me a review - let me know! Good, bad or ugly!**

**Now, as always, the **Disclaimer: I do not own anything other than Drea, Lane, and other OC characters. Unfortunately enough, I don't claim any ownership to any WWE Superstars or the WWE itself. I'm entirely too poor and unlucky for that to be the case.****

My days and nights had blended into one giant blur. Lately, the cities ran into each other, and I was dying for a reprieve from the speed of my life. Randy and I had fostered a better working relationship, but the non-stop pace was taking its toll on all of us; injuries and lack of attention were becoming more common.

Months had passed, but I remained too chicken shit to allow myself to dwell on John's absence often. My heart was slowly on the mend, admittedly with Randy's help, and I loved feeling a little happier every day. I had not yet made it to the place where I could remember only the good portions of my time in John's life, and was more likely to fall into that dark, depressing place.

I didn't have any time for that now – our show must go on. With me. With Randy. And without John.

_The crowd sprung to life as a loud whack landed across Randy's chest, reducing him to a puddle on cue. I crammed my hands into my already ratted out hair before slamming them down on the apron. I was waiting for my cue, and once Randy started rubbing his forehead, it was show time. I clamored up on the apron, leaning over on the top rope while yelling at the ref. I was throwing a temper tantrum for the ages – my voice couldn't hold it much longer. About that time the fireworks started – Glenn grabbed Randy and launched him into the back of the referee, which, unfortunately enough, sent me backwards off the apron. (At least one Glenn and Randy had somewhat prepared me on how to take the fall in the best way.)_

I really, really tried to make believe I was a limp, lifeless body on the mats. It was killing me to not roll over and grab the back of my head – I _may_ have taken the fall a little harder on the back of my neck and head than originally intended. I heard Randy's feet thudding around me before I felt his rough hands slide under my knees and shoulders, lifting me off my resting place as my arms limply fell to my side.

Randy whispered under his breath, "Get ready for it. He's going to come after me and push me down. I'll block you out before you hit." Fuck; this could hurt a little more. No sooner had Randy finished his sentence and taken his next step, I was back on the ground covered in man. Now, I should never complain about the current situation – there are about a million women who would die for this opportunity to lay on this ramp right now – but I was a horrible actress sometimes, especially when my body actually was in a little pain. I admit it, I'm kind of a wimp sometimes.

"_I can't believe it, Kane has gone even further into insanity that I ever thought possible! He's now taken out Randy Orton, who is being attended to by EMS, and Drea was collateral damage! She's being taken out by the other medic crew right now, and we will let the WWE universe know what the prognoses are when we are advised. We have just witnessed carnage King, and it makes me wonder, who will stop Kane?"_ Ugh. Cole's voice was being broadcast on the TV's in the back as they rolled both Randy and I into waiting ambulances, slamming the doors as the buses rumbled to life.

"CUT – WE'RE OFF CAMERA! Bring 'em back!" The vehicle skidded to a halt.

"Ouch, Richie, what the hell. My neck is jacked." The medic helped un-strap me from the gurney as the ambulance backed into the stadium entrance again.

"Sorry, doll, had to wrap you up. You feelin okay?" I nodded at him quickly. "Good, I think you have a welcoming committee, so pile outta this thing." Richie pointed out the door as he swung it open. Randy stood before me, arms crossed at his muscular chest. My lips instantly pursed together.

"So did you have to send me flying that far, or did I do something wrong?" I grudgingly took the offered hand as I struggled to keep my feet under me as I stepped out of the doors. He did nothing but shrug at me; that, and fight back the smile that was threatening to curl the corners of his lips. "Thanks, asshole."

I heard the heels clicking before I could ever lay eyes on the face. "Great job, guys," I turned as a lightly placed hand hit my shoulder. Stephanie was standing between Randy and I, smiling like she was a child holding a precious secret. I eyed Randy wearily, and he looked slightly off kilter as well.

"Hello, Steph," Randy kept his lips terse as he greeted her. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"Well, Randy, happy to see you, too!" The smile on Stephanie's face was ever-widening. This could lead to no good. "I have very exciting news for you; the features editor of Maxim has sent a request to the home office – they need some of our best and brightest show ponies, and the up-and-comers for a spread. You and Drea are going out on location to do the shoot for us."

I smiled; a day away from the 'office' sounded nice. Where would we go – New York? Some random sound stage in Jersey City? Who cares because it's a free trip and I'm being given time away from work. I was ready to leave immediately, but there was yet another twist to this little tale.

"…Beth will be flying out tomorrow, Layla is heading out with her, Mike, Zack, and John will meet you guys – they should already there." The moment the name rolled out of Stephanie's mouth, my heard sank out through my feet. I hadn't seen or talked to John since that night, and I was not prepared for a reunion special any time soon. I no longer cared where we were going, and I checked out instantly. I think that Stephanie began to notice my lack of enthusiasm for the assignment. "Drea, you okay with that?"

"I'm sorry; beg your pardon?"

Steph was less than enthused to repeat herself. "I said that you and Randy will be doing the shoot the day after you arrive, then you have a couple days on location for interviews and retouches if needed. Is that okay with you?"

My cheeks flushed red hot. "Yes, ma'am. I'm good. You good?" I took a quick look at Randy who shrugged. "We're good, boss."

"Alright then, glad to hear it. Talk to one of the assistants for your arrangements." There was a tuft of hair that flipped over her shoulder, and just as fast as she had appeared, her Manolos carried her away. I was left staring out into space until I heard the snapping noise of Randy's fingers.

"Drea, go get packed. You heard her, we have to go." I nodded as Randy turned to walk away from me toward his locker room. Just as he was turning a corner out of sight, his voice boomed throughout the back hall, "Move Drea – I know you're still standing there!" Ah, got me there. Damn that man and his perceptiveness.

I had given up over half a day to traveling. Whomever made the arrangements for us should have been drug out into the streets to be tar and feathered. My pajama pants had been through hell, I had an elbow almost taken off twice by a beverage cart, and if it hadn't been for Randy being all valiant and self-sacrificing in gifting me his hoodie (which, after this many months of his continuance of this type of shit, was starting to creep me out), I would have frozen to death. All I wanted was a bed, a snack, and another drink – I couldn't pass out for the duration of this flight fast enough. I wasn't even completely for sure where we were going.

As we walked down the tarmac toward the terminal, the stewards greeted us and welcomed us to Tahiti. Tahiti. Uhm, Tahiti. I cannot freaking believe this. The travel, sucky flight, poor planning (on my part, totally), and generally bad feeling I had about being around some of these people was suddenly worth it. Additionally, this exact situation – the one where you drink yourself into oblivion to deal with your own ridiculous fear of boarding a flight – is exactly why I should be AA's new poster child; I didn't even know where we were headed. However, I didn't freak the hell out, so there's that. And, after I hugged every member of the support staff on the way out of the airport, then was herded into a waiting limo by Randy, I fell asleep for the remainder of the ride.

I sent a expeditionary hand out from under my covers before peeking out. Some nice maid had left me a glass of water and plethora of medications to cure the ills that had befallen me. Totally of my own volition, of course. Slowly I rose, swigging down some water and a few aspirin (or what I hope was aspirin) and decided to explore where I had wound up. The room was one giant hut, gorgeously decorated. I stubbed my big toe on someone's clown sized shoes as I crossed toward the open curtains blowing with a light breeze. The sky was very mellow in shades of purple, blue and a slight pink twinge in the distance. The hut had a great balcony with stairs down to a platform being gently slapped with each passing wave; I was in paradise.

"See you made it out of your little cocoon. I was sort of afraid you might not wake up in time on your own." I glanced over to see Randy leaning up against the frame to the door frame of the hut. He was holding a bottle of water and had nothing but a towel draped around his hips, his ab muscles pointing toward what was hidden under the towel. I shook my head slightly before catching his gaze again, watching the smirk cross his lips. "How you feelin'?"

I turned back toward the ever-brightening sky, exhaling slowly. "I feel like shit run over twice, but," Randy walked over next to me, "this place is gorgeous. I've always wanted to come here; this is paradise."

"Well, I can't argue with you. This certainly _could_ be paradise." I caught a wink and fought the urge to grin back…but I lost. "Our call is in an hour – go shower and I'll call for the car." I tucked my tail and ran before I could further embarrass myself. I had no idea what came over me – I've spent months building up my barrier to Randy's charm, then one hung-over view of the ocean at dawn from a hut, bam! I'm smiling at his corny line. _Note to self – if you're going to act like a goober, at least make him work harder for it_. My shower was brief but effective, and I emerged slightly more refreshed and alive. I piled my hair messily on top of my head, threw on my trusty old purple bikini and running shorts, and slid into a pair of flip flops nearest to me.

"Drea, you alive? We gotta go!" I ran toward the voice and found Randy on his phone, tapping his foot, near the front door of the hut.

"Alright, alright – I'm on my way!" He gave me a once over as I skidded to a halt beside him before turning to march down the long path back to the main hotel. "What? Do I look bad?" I was half-running, half-skipping as I tried to keep up with his longer strides.

"Far from it," Randy growled low as we entered the hotel lobby, and I was quite sure that he hadn't intended for me to even hear what his true opinion was, but I still felt my cheeks flush. _You've still got it, kid – flaunt that shit_. I threw out a text to Lane before my bravado faded. I knew what direction she would send me, but perhaps if I could have a handy scapegoat for where I was afraid I might end up, it might not suck as badly.

"Alright, Randy – yes, you, giant man; Randy, right?" I tucked my head down to keep the snickers under wraps. I heard Randy question the photographer's mother's integrity as he sauntered to the backdrop. "We are going to put you right here to catch the sun – Moses? Moses! You know he's not really shiny enough; those abs really need to pop. Come help him out." Oh. My. Gosh. Randy was going to kill him; don't insult a man's abs. Especially when that person has some rage issues, and spends his professional days in trunks. "Much better, thank you, Moses; now, Mr. Randy, shall we?" Randy flexed, turned, dipped, smirked, posed, and bent around as he was told for the next twenty minutes. I opted for more texting of the 'I'm definitely going to regret my own stupidity" variety. I didn't even hear the first call of my name.

"Is that girl here? Ms. Andrea! Right now please; I am a very busy man and don't have time for you! Right now!" One of the assistants politely nudged my shoulder.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry – so is this what you're shooting me in?" I took a look at the outfit that had been chosen for me, and was suddenly feeling my ego deflate. My hair had been subdued into long, soft beach waves; my eyes were rimmed in kohl with shimmer highlighting the corners. I was stacked and shellacked with bracelets, necklaces, rings and earrings which matched the gold metal fixtures of my ensemble. And, speaking of ensemble, there was barely anything there – it consisted of python print triangles connected with giant gold rings and chains. I gulped as I looked down at the 6 inch heels they had set me up in, thinking it may not have been the greatest of choices for sand. This was my Rachel Zoe moment on crack; take that back, I looked like a long lost Kardashian. Eew.

"Yes, it is what we are shooting you in. Off with that cover. Moses, pose her. Moses!" This photographer is a dick, and his buddy Moses deserves a day off.

I whispered to Moses when he was close up, tousling my locks, "I'm so sorry you seem to be getting yelled at because of me."

"He'd yell anyways honey, it's the only way he tends to forget that his wife totally knows he's sleeping with a dude. Don't worry about anything. Besides, you're boyfriend is getting ready to eye fuck the shit out of you in this." Moses tossed his head toward where Randy was standing as he tugged the robe out of my hands.

"That's not my boyfriend." I tried the nervous chuckle about the comment; even I wasn't buying it. Awkward.

"Neither one of them?" Neither – there were multiple options? I instantly popped my head up, and my stomach dropped to my feet. John was walking toward the set. It was the first time I'd seen him since the incident. He had trimmed down significantly, and the board shorts he wore were slung low on his hips – the tight cuts of his abs were glistening in the sunlight. Moses must have realized I had lost it, because he was suddenly re-fluffing my hair rather roughly. "You better get your shit together, you're due. Now go."

As I walked over to where the equipment was set up for my photos, I caught Randy's eyes. He was not shy about taking a long look at what I wasn't wearing before smiling. He winked at me as I tried to keep my cheeks from flushing deep red. It was that exact moment that John halted directed behind the photographer, staring at me as if he was trying to bore a hole through my head. I exhaled slowly, hoping to calm my nerves. It was pretty evident that at this point, there was definitely no hiding from this situation anymore. All eyes were on me.


	38. Life's a Beach

**I reiterate that I own nothing by the OC characters - not even my own home. I'm not nearly cool enough to be lucky enough to lay claim to anyone or anything else. I also know it's been a while since my last update, but life sometimes gets in the way - short start back, but it should be on the upswing shortly. Review and tell me what you think!**

**CHAPTER 38**

I spent the remainder of my day on set trying to avoid the situation I had found myself in. Who would have ever believed that a girl from Podunk could find herself standing on a white sand beach, dolled up to the nines, being invasively stared at by two of the hottest men who have walked the Earth. If only my "Channing Tatum wants to marry me" fantasy could have come to fruition like this…

After my initial photoset had been taken, the photographer decided that he needed to add some extra stress into my life, because he pulled in Randy and John, leaving me back in the same sandwich situation I had found myself in months before. Neither man would look at the other in the face; the tension was so thick in the air, it was surprising that someone hadn't stood in front of the camera waiving the awkward sign. I'll promise that if I would have had access to some poster board and a stick, I would have been all kinds of Wyle E. Coyote. I did not like being this close to the middle of the mixture of nitro and glycerin – I got the feeling that at any moment someone was going to take a swing.

"So yes, mens? Randy? Yes? I need you to come in closer to Miss Andrea." Randy glanced down at me sideways, keeping his mouth terse, but squishing in beside me closer. "Ah! Yes! Now make sure you are turned ever so slightly toward her, and you? Miss? I want you to be completely open to my camera angle." I shifted to stare at camera full on. "Now – where is the other one? John, is it? I need you to go to her other side and do the exact same thing as Randy. Face her just a little bit, but stay open to me."

John walked through the sand and into the shot. I took in a sharp breath as he sidled up to me. His face was bright and he was smiling mischievously. "Good, good. Now, miss, I want you to put your left hand on Randy's chest, and your right hand on John's side." I swallowed hard. Touching Randy wasn't my issue at all…other than keeping my focus on what I was doing. It was the thought of having my hands back on John; the same man who had sent me reeling into a depression that took so long to deal with I'd barely made it out. Had it not been for Randy, - which let's be honest, I never thought I'd ever give him credit for anything positive again after his indiscretion - I'm certain I wouldn't have had the wherewithal to continue working for the company. It would have been all, "Hello self-loathing, regret, and former dead-end job, we meet again." I lightly placed my right hand where I was told.

John picked that moment to find his voice. "I knew you couldn't resist me. Just look – I've been here for less than 5 minutes and you are already rubbing where you know I like it." He smirked first at me, then at Randy over my head. "Well, one of the places where you know I like it." John had always been a smartass; that was his good humor side showing through. There was a little additional snark in his tone though; that was to dig at Randy.

Randy clenched his teeth tight, and I heard the growl echo out. "Take the picture now, mother fucker. I'm going to beat someone's ass in about five seconds." John had gotten a reaction from Randy, which was apparently exactly what he wanted from the start.

"Oh-ho-ho! Testy temper there, Randall. You should be more polite. There are ladies present." I leaned my head over, catching Randy's sharp, dark eyes. I shook my head at him and mouthed not to react.

"Come on now guys, we are just having some fun in the tropics, right? Are we ready to take the photos?" I flinched slightly as the flashes popped, and we were jostled around from the various positions we held. It was torture to find myself here like this – barely clothed, between the man who had both devastated me and just brought me back from the brink, and the other who had spent his initial time being the boyfriend of legend only to push me to that precipice where the other had, most recently, made sure I didn't go over. It wasn't until I heard the photographer yelling at Moses again about going on before losing the light that I realized we had been granted a small reprieve. I started walking back toward the chair where my robe was waiting, then I heard it.

"So you seriously thought you could show up here and it would just be the fucking 'John Cena' show again? Who the fuck are you kidding?" Randy had his arms crossed against his chest, daring John to come within his space.

"Come again? You saying it quit being my show? Son, you wish you were me. I get a great vacation from the deal, I'm on the management's good side, and whenever I come back to town, it's to stand next to an oiled up chick in barely any clothes on a beach. I'm the definition of win, _Randall_." John chuckled out loud in spite of himself. He honestly thought he was right. "Besides that, I'm quite certain that in the rankings for major life fuck-ups, I'm not on the list nearly as high as you are. Why do you act all holier than thou when you impregnated another woman while dating our gorgeous girl here?"

Randy took the first step. He lurched closer to John, hovering right in front of his face, snarling as he replied. "As far as I'm concerned, you could drown in that ocean, and I'd never bat an eye. You're pathetic and nothing more than an untalented hack who doesn't deserve to be here." I walked back up to the fray, wrapping my robe tightly around me. "And – just so you have fair warning, Cena – if you even so much as look at Drea in any way, I will finish what I should have the last time you were stupid enough to tangle with me. It will be your last go-around, asshole."

Before I could turn to leave, John reached out and grabbed my hand in his, bringing it to his lips and gently kissing it. "Drea, you're such a sight for sore eyes. Tell me, what has been keeping you busy all this time – I'm assuming your dance card has just been…well, packed. I hope you can pencil me in for a dinner or something so I can talk to you…alone."

Randy breached in front of me, and it started again. I ended up on my ass in the sand, watching two grown men roll around before me like they were in kindergarten and someone had not shared their juice with the other. Randy caught John right in the jaw with a left (I had no idea he was so inclined to hit that hard with that hand), and John sent Randy flying backwards after getting his legs against Randy's stomach. I tugged off the stupid heels I had teetered on all day, and ran closer to the fight.

"Stop it! John, Randy, both of you! Stop!" I stood by, watching them trade blows with each other, rolling about the sand. _Management knew what they were doing…they had to. Who would have ever believed that this was going to end well? No one, that's why this was on purpose. Stupid_.

John finally rolled away from Randy in enough time to stand up and back away. He rubbed the back of his hand against his lips, drying some blood from the corner of his mouth. "Just remember Orton – you'll never be me. All I have to do is ask and everything I could want comes running to me…including Drea. I love her, and she knows it. She loves me, too." John glanced over at me, winking as he turned to wander back toward the hotel. "Hope to see you soon, Drea. You look phenomenal."

Randy popped up, intent on running after him. "Fuck you, Cena! Why are you walking away, pussy?!" I reached out and grabbed Randy's arm as he came close. He huffed at me, and winced as I reached up to wipe away a trail of red coming from his nose. "I really, really, **really** fucking hate that bastard! He has no fucking clue what he is talking about."

"I know, but was it necessary to fight right here, right now?" I dabbed at his nostrils as they flared out.

"He's fucking lucky sand is soft – next time, I fucking kill him." With that promise, Randy turned to leave me standing on the beach, barely dressed, and utterly confused.


	39. Absolution is Hard to Find

**CHAPTER 39**

"_Cole, I've got to bring a little attention to some of our superstars and divas – I've gotten an advanced copy of the issue that will hit stands next week. I've got to say that these ladies really put the guys to shame. There are also really in-depth interviews with your favorite superstars - John Cena, and so many others! Make sure you pick up your copy when they come out!"_

I sat resting in a quiet locker room, trying to weed through my thoughts before I had to make an appearance, when the door swung open and Nikki and Brie waltzed into the room. "I finally got my shot, Brie. Patience has paid off. This show is launching me into the stratosphere." Nikki stopped at the mirror long enough to fluff her hair and pucker up.

Brie turned to me, "Oh, hi, Drea. We didn't see you when we came in." I glanced up and nodded in her general direction.

Nikki spun around, smirking gently. "Oh, yeah, hi. So there's no hard feelings, right? I mean, you know this whole thing obviously wasn't my idea. Well, our idea, anyways. We're still cool and everything, right?" She leaned back against the door, crossing her arms under her surgically enhanced chest.

I picked myself up out of the chair, adjusting the dress I had on. I took a look at both of the girls – Brie's face was softer, more understanding and seemed to have empathy for my situation. Nikki's face was sharp, and I could see in her eyes that she was gloating beyond words at where she had found herself. I began to walk toward the door, which was being guarded by Nikki, "Yeah, sure. I understand…_completely_." I ended my jaunt eye to eye with Nikki, letting the last word roll off my tongue with venom. "Now, if you'll both excuse me," I reached for the door handle around her. I tugged hard to shove the door into Nikki, sending her flailing forward. "Sorry about that, Nikki. We're good though, right?" I couldn't help but smirk as I walked out of the room, taking slight solace in having sent a clear message that I was not going to be walked over any longer.

Since the location photo shoot for Maxim, John had been pushing me to meet with him, hang out, text, date, sleep together, or whatever came to his mind at that moment. I had received flowers upon flowers, candy, cards, apology text messages, and he had flirted himself retarded. I was doing my best to keep from falling for his act – this is the same man who called me a whore because he didn't get what he wanted from the company. John had left me in a depression that I was barely escaping currently, and it was becoming harder every day to continue to resist his advances…now that Randy wasn't around to distract me any longer. Randy had been sent home for a violation of policy under the guise of an injury. The last few days had been more flooded with John's attempts to get me back onto his playing field, both metaphorically and literally. It was in diametric opposition with the person he portrayed to the public on that stupid show, the thing that had given Nikki her bravado in recent months. It was all about the show darlings, because the play is the thing.

"So, Drea, are you heading to curtain? I think you're next." Nattie lightly touched my arm as she walked up to me. "C'mon, I'll walk down with you."

"Thanks. I guess I was kind of out there." I gave her a small smile as I followed her toward the gorilla.

"So, what's new on the Drea front? What's John been up to lately?" Nattie smirked as she spoke.

"Well, since you asked, he's been riding me pretty hard for the last week to agree to go out to dinner with him. He's been hounding me nonstop – texts, asking other people to help beg me and vouch for him, and I've gotten 10 different floral arrangements with long letters waxing on about how wonderful I am and how he just needs a little bit of my time to explain everything away." I groaned loudly. "It's getting exhausting trying to keep him at bay, but he keeps inserting himself into every facet of my life that he can, and to be honest, without Randy here to help keep my mind on other things, my resolve is crumbling." _I could hear people judging me. I was judging, too. If my 21 year old self heard me say that "without 'insert man here', I'm struggling", I'd kick my own ass. Brutally._

Nattie stopped before we walked through the curtain. "So, what you're telling me, Drea, is that John Cena, the most hard-headed man in this company, is apologizing to you on the daily – more like minute by minute – for being a douche, and you've resisted this far?" I nodded, befuddled at exactly where this might be going. "I think you've put up a really brave front, Drea, but it may be worth some time to hear him out at least."

I raised my eyebrow at this advice. "Did he get to you too, Nattie?"

She shrugged as she raised the curtain to one side to walk through. "I am totally not saying that you should drop everything and run into his arms, but maybe just taking some time and letting him say what he says he needs to will give you some closure. Then you'll be able to move on from all of it."

I followed her through the curtain and under the jumbo-tron to the ring. Maybe she was right.

The universe was noisy tonight; so much so that it was almost impossible to hear what any of the divas were saying about the new season of the show over the shouts. I was leaning back on the ropes when his music hit. The crowd was even more boisterous, mixing boos with cheers. He ambled down to the ring, climbing in with all of us and bringing the mic up to his mouth. "Ladies, ladies, ladies; let me be the first to congratulate you all on your recent successes!"

John began to pace around the line-up of divas, stopping occasionally to grant someone a hug or wink. I kept my head down, hoping to avoid the whole situation and maybe become invisible. "I recognize that some of us will be working together more than others, or so I hope." I saw his shadow before me – I knew he was standing right in front of me. I huffed and lifted my head to find John in my immediate space, staring at me with a slight grin crossing his lips. It brightened his face under the shadow of his trademark hat.

I simply stared at him. I was still having a hard time reconciling what he was trying to be now with the man who broke my heart into a million pieces and told me all of his problems were due to my whore-dom. Obviously this wasn't true, but it hurt all the same to hear it from someone who had held my heart at the time.

John reached out and took my hand in his, brought it to his mouth, and kissed my hand gently. He whispered away from the microphone, "You look so beautiful, Drea. I hope you'll let me take you out tonight for something to eat and maybe a drink?" I blushed in spite of my self – I could feel the ice around my heart breaking away. He then raised the mic back up and threw his arms into the air, "Make sure you all tune into _Total Divas._ You never know what you'll see."

And with that, the dam had broken.

I leaned over the sink, pulling my eyelid tight to lightly trace my eyeliner on. _You're crazy for doing this, you know. _Even my own conscious was judging me. Again. This bodes well. I leaned back, surveying the final product, and adjusting my shimmery tank top. _Why did I ever agree to this? I'm so stupid._

I had completed my ritual far too early in the evening. I kept fretting over my hair, lip gloss, shirt, shoes…whatever it took to keep my mind off my own idiocy. It all ended as my cell sang out. I grabbed it to read the text, "_I'm ready for you outside if you're ready to go. Take your time, though. No rush. Big black limo by the valet stand._" He had apparently given this some thought; I wasn't sure if I was supposed to be flattered or pissed off that his vehicle of choice would draw more attention to us than what I had hoped for. I grabbed my clutch and stuffed my phone inside as I left my room, exhaling loudly as I approached the elevator. _Here goes nothing_.

"I'm happy to see you, Drea. I'm glad that you have given me this chance." John had waited outside the limo. I walked toward him, nodded, and climbed inside as he opened the door for me.

John climbed into the other side. "You know where we're going; we're ready." The limo lurched forward, leaving me to keep my attentions at what was outside the window. "So, what should we talk about – we have a little time before we get to the restaurant."

I couldn't help the word vomit that was about to spew forth, so instead, I simply opened my mouth and let it come out. "I don't know why you are doing this John, this is ridiculous." I rolled my eyes and readjusted my pants. Fidgeting seemed to be the best way to cut this tension. Admittedly, it was the only real plan I had for the evening.

"Well, you get right down to the point don't you, short stack?" John wrung his hands together.

"My name is Drea. I'd greatly appreciate it if you used it, please." My face grew hot; he was already on my nerves and we hadn't even gotten a drink yet.

"My apologies then, Drea. I am happy to talk all the way through this – I owe it to you to do that – but can we at least wait until we get to dinner? I'll be the first to lay it out there, but let me at least get a drink first."

"Fine." I exhaled loudly. _You knew better than this, Drea. You knew better._ I took out my phone and began firing off text after text. I asked Nattie what I had gotten myself into; I texted Lane that if I send her a '911', she's my out; and finally, I texted Randy to see if he would return my message.

By the time we reached the restaurant, I had only received a response from Nattie, who told me to just give it a chance, and Lane, who said she would be ready when needed. I slid out of the door that was opened for me, and quietly followed John into the vestibule. My heart was telling me the reply I needed most was the one I was still waiting on.

Before he could say anything, the host greeted us. "Ah – Mr. Cena! We have been expecting you. We have a wonderful table reserved for you and your guest."

"It's private, yes?" John leaned forward slightly, trying to keep his face turned away from the other patrons.

"Oh, yes, sir. It's in the chef's reserved area. We kept that guest list clear so that you will have the utmost privacy." The host shuffled us through a darker corridor to a back dining room – it was barely lit, other than the candles on each table. The walls were dark, the linens on each table were crisp white and helped reflect a little more light into the room. I slide into the chair that was offered to me as John pulled it away from the table. I nodded slightly in his direction. "Your server will be right with you to get some drinks for you. Might I suggest the reserve '78 Rose? It is quite floral and splendid."

"Thanks." John parked himself unceremoniously across the table from my seat. As the host bowed quickly and left us, John flopped open his menu. "So, wine - maybe some appetizers? I see they have something with mushrooms; I know how much you love mushrooms."

"Good evening, my name is Olivia, and I'll be serving you this evening. May I get you something to drink besides water?" The waitress had glided up to our table on her long, lithe legs. Apparently the ensemble requirements here as far as uniforms was very lax – her bits were barely covered on either end, and they were ample. Her hair was fair blonde, and she had bright chocolate eyes that were sparkling at John. I don't know why I felt the need to keep note of that, but it sent some minor part of me deep down twinging.

"Well, Olivia, I am thinking we will have a nice bottle of Pinot Noir." John beamed at the attention he was receiving, and at his apparent triumph in choosing his beverages.

I leaned back in my chair slightly, "I would actually like to have a Grey Goose cosmopolitan with a touch of grenadine and a cherry garnish please." I smirked back at John, hoping to be emphatic about the fact that his control was not that far reaching. The server left quickly, apparently feeling the growing tension in the room. "So, we're now here, booze on the way. Talk, John. I'm not going to continue wasting time beating around the bush."

John groaned. "Fine. What was it I am answering? Why am I doing this?"

"Yes. Why have you been blowing up my phone? Sending me flowers? You got rid of me, remember? I'm the cheating, manipulative whore – does that sound familiar?" I felt my face grow hot as the words flew out of my mouth. There was no way to be tactful about it; he had been the douche bag to call me all of those awful things and I owed him nothing.

"I had hoped you would give me a better opportunity to talk with you about this. I've been trying to get you to give me that chance."

"You really think you deserve it? After what you did to me? And what you said to me?" I was aghast at just how ballsy this asshole was being.

He took a great breath, and exhaled loudly. "You're right. It was my fault. All of it. I really see that now." I froze as John rolled his freshly delivered glass of wine around in his hand. He copped to it all; without a fight about it. I was stunned. "Drea, I was in a very bad place when you came along. Had been for a while."

"Okay. So that's all my fault?"

"Well, as I was getting ready to say before I was interrupted," John leaned in as he spoke to me, his words and eyes pointed, "None of it was your fault. You coming into my life at the time you did was good and bad."

We were interrupted to order our dinner. Olivia had obviously figured out who was paying, so she was shamelessly flirting with John as I gulped down my cocktail. "Excuse me, Olivia, was it? I am going to need you to bring me another cocktail please." I smirked. "That is, assuming you weren't going to just climb onto his lap." _Just the right amount of snark there, Drea. Playing it cool…keepin' it classy._ John looked at his plate, attempting to keep from snickering out loud. "What? If she were any closer to your lap, she would have been your pants."

"Still jealous, I see." John's chest puffed up slightly.

"Nope, not jealous, Mr. You Wish. Just want to get to the bottom of this so I can resolve this issue once and for all." I nodded politely when our obviously-miffed wench dropped off my drink. "So, you were saying?"

"That it was my fault. You were just kind of collateral damage, unfortunately enough." John shrugged.

"I can't fucking believe you, John. I call bullshit." I huffed loudly. "You sit there now, all cocky in your chair, telling me that this whole thing is all on you; poor John, boo-hoo. And all I did was end up in the wrong place at the wrong time. It would be plausible had you not decided to call me a soul-sucking slut and blame me for every problem you have. On national television, might I add."

"Drea, you can choose to hear and believe what I'm saying, or you can stay bitter. You're choice. I know I was an asshole. Bottom line. You did nothing to deserve what you got from me at the end – it wasn't you, it was my fault." John pulled his hand over his shortly-shorn hair. "I threw everything I had into work, then you showed up and everything changed. You threw me for a loop."

I thought I had been ready for all of this; I was finally getting the full-on apology I thought I had wanted. It was tearing open the wound that I had wanted to keep buried. This is not going according to plan at all. I thought I would get the chance to lay into John; scream, curse, maybe throw something. Then I would get to go home. Away from all of this extemporaneous shit, to process the developments, and let it go accordingly while drowning sorrows in a good bottle of vodka. Instead, here I was, two drinks in and waiting for my food to really give me an excuse to run away from the conversation. I could feel the water welling up in my eyes as he spoke.

"The real issue was my unresolved shit, Drea. And like I just said, you were too good of a person to have walked into my mess. I never should have made you a part of my life like I did until I knew I could give you every bit of the attention, love, and stability you deserved. Drea," John leaned into the table, trying to get closer to me as he spoke.

"No, No." I started shaking my head, which was jarring the tears loose from my eyes unfortunately. "You do not get to do this to me!" I was speaking louder as the emotion rushed over me.

"Don't get to do what? Tell you how much I've regretted what I did and said every hour of every day since it happened?" John swallowed down his wine, staring at the empty glass as he set it back down lightly on the table. "I hated myself for making you feel so horrible. I blew it."

I felt the heat in my cheeks as my tears rolled down openly. "Why did you do that to me? And why didn't you ever tell me you were sorry? That you'd done something wrong, ask forgiveness then." I really believed it – I was falling for this doe-eyed, repentant slop. Sure, I was doing that whole silent girl cry thing where giant tears just roll off your eyelashes and onto your shirt, and I felt like someone had opened up my stomach to reveal its contents, but he was navigating around all the icebergs. He was getting his message across to me. _Did he really mean it, or is this some stunt? You're not going to fully trust him_. I couldn't reconcile the way I wanted to feel about him and behave with the new presentation I was getting. For the longest time, I'd wanted nothing more than to have John openly and freely admit he had screwed this straight to hell. That he was the problem, and that he was appalled by his own behavior. My head was getting this message now, but didn't want to let my heart fall for it.

"Your completely right. I should have gotten out of that car and come back for you. I should have never gotten on that plane, never stayed away, and tried like hell every day to get your forgiveness. I owe you my heart, and I broke yours. Drea, I'm terribly, terribly sorry. I'll never be able to let myself live this down – Drea, I loved you so much. I still do. I love you, Drea."


End file.
